It is a sad day when I cannot sew. If I have to take a week off, or- heaven help me-months (!)...I can't even think about it.
Ol' Brother had been acting up during the Christmas season. I knew what the problem was- this little metal thingy (that is what the manual calls it) had been getting weak and therefore my bobbin thread was unregulated. It kept getting bunched up while I would try to sew. I was able to wriggle it back into position many times. I was so very proud of myself, fixing my own machine like that. However, for anyone who has ever wriggled a soda can tab back and forth...back and forth...back and forth...you know the inevitable outcome.
It died. That little metal piece just laid down and gave its life for the good of the machine. So the parts of the machine that don't want to work as hard can now have a little respite. It was so very socialist of my Brother. I hate socialism. And I am mad at my Brother. For my sweet husband has told me that I will not be able to get my machine fixed until April.
Not three days before the incident, we had been discussing my dire need to stick carefully to the budget for the coming months.
No outside spending, he said.
Aye, said I.
And then this. The Lord is testing my submission.
Of course, I called the manufacturer. I can work a power drill. I can program a garage door. I can refinish furniture. Surely I can uninstall and reinstall a teeny tiny metal part into an expensive machine.
But they were on to me. They referred me to an Authorized Service Dealer. Apparently many people such as myself want to save the $75.00 and just Fix It Themselves. And get mad at Brother when the process doesn't go quite as expected. Have they been monitoring my phone calls or something?
So I shall wait. And make bows. Or crochet. Or bake. Or something. It just doesn't seem like creating if there is not a whirring machine and crisp, expensive new fabric involved.