Sunday Bloody Sunday

The quilting gremlins were out in full force on Sunday at the Pyjamas residence. Jodie over at Ric Rac calls this EITTTS. (Everything I Touch Turns To Shit) I’m sticking with the gremlins story. Plus I’m trying to limit my use of profane language. My Mum used to say it’s not smart or clever, and doesn’t make you sound cool –it just makes you sound uneducated and a bit of a slapper.

By the way Jodie isn't a slapper - she's actually very cool , and you should definitely go check out her crafty blog.

Peeps vacated before my 1 pm deadline for our family breakfast. I was rubbing my hands in glee. Miss Pyjamas arrived home with a bout of gastro. (Charming) I‘m sure somewhere in my house there is a secret stash of germs, that people purposely dip into to foil my plans for quilting and other pleasurable pursuits. Given that these same people can't find their socks without my assistance I’m left to wonder why they can find the germ stash. I’ll probably spend next Sunday ruminating on this little mystery.

Miss Pyjamas goes to bed. At least she's in another room, breathing in her own germs.  Since I work in an area closely affiliated with child protection we can’t leave little Pyjamas to fend for himself so Mr. Pyjamas did babysitting duty.

For the life of me, I could not  get my machine to sew properly. I break two needles. I wreck 4 half square triangles. I chuck a tanty. I do weird things with tension knobs. I blow into crevices. I test sew. Eventually I forget it’s not cool to swear – and I don’t care how uneducated it makes me sound. I really hope little Pyjamas first word is not something that starts with “f" however I fear it is a distinct possibility.

The problem was never really resolved 100% satisfactorily. The machine is booked in for a service. And I still didn't sew anything.

I'm suffering from sewing withdrawal.