After 10+ years and a bazillion yards of fabric for curtains, pillows, duvets, halloween costumes, seat cushions, upholstery jobs, aprons, bibs, cribs, and flubs, she simply gave out. I listened closely as she clanged to a grinding halt, letting me know that she was done, a last dramatic breath that said, "I just. Can't. Go on. Like this. Any. More." Puh.
|She had such dramatic lighting. |
That's what I loved most about her.
I'm not surprised though. I did take her apart, down to the screws, about seven years ago in order to get rid of that g.d. squeaking noise. After putting her back together (simply eliminating the squeaking culprit), I had nine screws and a small belt leftover. But she kept on stitching like the machine that she was, devoid of emotions of loss or ravage.
I admit, I didn't take proper care of her. I didn't dust the bobbin enclosure. Ever. I fiddled with her tension every five stitches, never really understanding the concept. I pushed the pedal to the metal too often, causing her to shake like a plane skidding on the runway. She's been banged around, driven cross country, locked in dark closets and cursed at into the wee hours of the night. Yet she just kept on button-holing and back-locking like a pro.
More than like a pro, like a friend who says, "It's ok that you keep hitting me in the face, I still believe in what you're doing."
So what did I do to honor the passing of my dear, sweet, devoted sidekick? I went on Amazon and replaced her with a younger, faster, newer model with 72 stitch functions, quilting features, a free arm for larger projects who hums like a baby in the night.
Go ahead, say what you're thinking. I'm a fair-weather friend.