This week, I am indeed, in love with the sewing machine repair man, even if he is old enough to be my dad and has a mullet.
On Saturday night, I was sewing while watching the Eurovision when my machine started missing stitches. I tried to sort it out, I cleaned it out as best I could, I unscrewed bits, I cleaned under them but it still didn't work so I
He wasn't impressed; he was busy telling me that Dita Von Teese had heavy thighs (please, if I looked like her, I would be very happy!!) and making up strange rules that never actually exisit to excuse some of the rather random entrants. Anyway, after another few minutes of asking, and a reminder that when he loved me, he used to mend things for me, he, begrudgingly started taking bits of sewing machine to pieces so by the time Norway had been crowned winners, there was a sewing machine in pieces on my dining room table. Eventually he put it back together again, I tried it. It was sooo quiet but basically missed every stitch. Damn and bugger!
On Monday I rang up the sewing machine man and took it to him, crossing everything that the service that he claimed would solve the problem would work and trying not to look too deseprate when I told him that I really *needed* it back as soon as possible, if not before, but you know, no pressure.
Tuesday came and I waited. Eventually he rang to tell me that he needed a bobbin to test it a bit more, I rushed into town, gave it to him and he said that it should all be done within 15mins so Lou and I went shopping, went back and it wasn't ready. He couldn't get it working...by this time I was getting rather stressed and I think maybe did play the part of the desperate sewing machine girl a bit too much.
On Wednesday though, the sun was shining and I went back to the shop. The man had fixed my machine and she now works like a dream. Horrah for the sewing machine man with a mullet!!