Greetings internet; I have come to rant about something that is nobody’s fault.
Hand-stitching.
It looks like it should be so fun, so satisfying, so dignified, so dainty. That lasts for about three stitches, and then it rapidly deteriorates into pricked fingers, stiff necks, puckered stitches, and other horrors.
And then there’s the time.
45 minutes at a sewing machine is enough to give me a finished simple garment; assuming all my pattern pieces have already been measured, cut, and pinned. 45 minutes hand-sewing will give me far less progress (maybe 7ish feet, but starting and tying off both take extra time) and far more minorly inconvenient injuries, which, as we all know, are the worst kind of injury. They don’t look impressive, you can barely find them, but especially when they’re on your hands they’re remarkably incapacitating.
Why am I so preoccupied with this, you ask? Well, I love sewing and making, but my sewing machine has been out of order for about…..a year and a half now. Why don’t I fix it, you ask? Well, she was working fine until we oiled her, and now she shrieks when used. I don’t understand it either, by all logical means it makes no sense. I suppose this is another manifestation of the alternate dimension that is sewing.
Anyway, that’s my rant.
Be free,
Nah
