Hemming & Hawing

There are three household related tasks I hesitate to do. Well avoid at all costs, really. Washing windows, cleaning out the fridge and mending. You can tell I have some time on my hands, because this weekend I have tackled the least offensive of the three, mending. I’ve hauled out my sewing basket with all its rarely used spools of colourful threads, my vast collection of buttons is spilled onto the dining room table, and scraps of fabric are strewn across the floor. My pile of mending is daunting, accumulated over a year. Or so.

There are two pair of pants to hem, I’ve actually been wearing them pinned up with safety pins. Some black jeans, a fleece jacket and pants all have tears that need patching. I managed to burn a hole in the jacket years ago when I was holding a candle and gesturing a bit wildly. Did you know fleece melts when it burns? All those recycled plastic bottles it’s made from. There’s a lime green corduroy jacket that is buttonless. When a friend first gave me her perfectly good hand-me-down a few years ago, I took the original buttons off because I didn’t like them. I will finally be able to close up the coat on chilly spring days.

I just pray nothing will require the sewing machine. I do have one. But I have the most basic of skill levels, acquired from my Home Ec 10 class. Pulling the machine out of the back of the closet is a whole other level of commitment. And also requires vigorous dusting.

There’s a cloth purse that needs attention too. It has a big ceramic button clasp on the front that has come loose. I went into a local sewing shop recently, to get some strong thread to secure the button. I noticed the store was quite busy when I entered, then saw the giant posters: 50% OFF EVERYTHING. It barely registered. I picked up some hemp coloured embroidery thread, went up to the till and set my purchase on the counter. “You’ve got to be kidding,” said the clerk. My bill was nineteen cents. “Guess I should get some kind of prize for the lowest order,” I said. “No just ridicule,” she quipped.  Haw haw haw.

Okay, I’ve taken a pause from my mending madness to write this, so time to get back. Darn. Which reminds me, there are some holey wool socks in my drawer too, but I draw the line at darning.

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