The Sewing Machine is History

I tested the sewing machine tonight.

Picture on the floor, sewing machine resting on a towel on the kitchen chair which doubles as my computer chair, foot on the pedal. Yes, it was quite a sight. No, there is no photographic evidence of said attempt since the digital camera is full of fire damage photos.

I tried stitching with ecru thread. While I could figure out the controls reasonably well, and eventually reached the right settings, the ecru thread came out grey on the actual fabric. I could faintly smell the soot, but of course, I think I smell soot and smoke often. (I'm finding the misty haze from our new room humidifier--it's very dry in the apartment--a little stressful.)

So my husband has been telling me most of the night that we just toss the machine, mark it as another loss to the fire and buy a new one immediately so that I can sew the Power Puff Girl costume/jumper.

Which is fine, except that I'm vaguely sentimental. This was Grandma's sewing machine. It was one of the few things that I received after she died. I have a wide range of feelings about my grandma (but that is another post, or two, or three), but I liked having her sewing machine. And that part of me heavily influenced by how I was raised murmurs, "But I can get it cleaned at a repair shop and hold onto as a back up."

And I've already lost my mom's sewing machine (the one sitting out at all times in the laundry room/hallway/sewing area as I grew up) because it was the one too close to the de-humidifier.

He knows that I can be weirdly sentimental about things. I told him to let me deal with this in my own way (i.e. don't just toss out the sewing machine without telling me).

So, I will apparently have a new sewing machine and I'll be saying good-bye to the old ones. I hope I can figure out the new machine in time to make the costume.

And does anyone want or need a bunch of cams from a thirty to forty year old sewing machine? They were in their case in the closet upstairs.

Sigh.