I'm kind of a doofus sometimes

It all started with Stuart. He bought a new pair of pants on Sunday, a pair he needed badly, I might add. My husband wears pants until the knees are worn through and the cuffs are hanging on by mere threads, at which point he'll come to me asking that I repair them. Sometimes I do my best, and sometimes I break the news gently that it's time that this pair be torn apart for the rag-box and that perhaps he should buy himself a new pair. Stuart is right between common inseam lengths. 30" have the slightest element of high-waters on him, and 32" drag under his heels. I've hemmed up probably half a dozen britches for him, even a couple of dress pants with folded cuffs, so by now it's old hat for me.

Last night after I got Daniel to bed and the dishes washed, I was all prepared to bust out my sewing machine and sew the hems. I had trimmed, ironed and pinned them, and even had matching thread:

But then I noticed my machine was missing a small, but crucial piece: the spool-holder. See that little hole?

That's where a small plastic rod fits in to hold the spool of thread. That damn little thing comes out so easily, but I've never actually lost it. Does it drive you crazy when you lose something small but important and you have no idea where to look for it?

Today I called a local sewing/vacuum store (why are those two things always combined in one business? I don't get it...) The lady told me to come in with my machine and we'd see what they have that fit. So I packed up the Danimal in the car, found him some toys, drove across town, waited for her to finish with another customer, presented her with my machine, removed the cover, and TA-DA!

Duh. The real spool-holder is that metal pole that doesn't even come off. It's always been there and I've never used it or even noticed it. The one I've always used that I lost is merely there for a second spool, for doing sewing with double needles (something I never do). I felt like a grade-A nitwit, but at least there's not a problem with the machine.

Have you ever had a moment where something was completely obvious the moment someone else pointed it out? Please share; it doesn't have to be craft-related or anything. I don't want to be the only one, and I'm interested in my readers' stories!

(BTW: While I was there, I bought a "walking foot" for the machine. I've never used one, but my mom, who is a quilter extraordinaire, tells me that it makes machine-quilting much easier. So the trip wasn't a lost cause. And I might try and start up a little quilting again. Like I have the time.)


Anonymous said…
I am not accurately described as a connoisseur of knitting. In fact, one might say without exaggeration that I have not the slightest interest in it. Yet, here I am on Mad Knitting. It might have something to do with explicitly mentioned in regard to pants that I own. This subject has been raised on a number of occasions, and I feel I must clarify a point.

I do not come to you asking you to repair pants that are merely in their latter years. I simply ask that you fix them when they've ripped, as was (is, ahem!) the case with the afore-mentioned pants. These pants have not yet died of old age. No, they were ripped by shelves maliciously jutting out into a hallway. But will they be fixed? No. It seems they will be cast instead into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. You will be sorely missed, my dear cords (2001 - 2006). RIP.

Your darling husband.
Steph said…
Take heart, Stu. If they're cords, they're probably one hundred percent cotton, which means they're compostable. They can feed the earth. Just cut off the zipper.

Yesterday I voted in the city commission and school board elections and when I came out of the booth I asked where to put my ballot and the ballot box was right in front of my nose--it just was all new-fangled like a copy machine so I didn't recognize it for what it was. Morons unite, eh?
I'm a doofus, too. I habitually yell for my kid, only to find he's standing quietly right behind me. I must do this 10 times a week. And at least 1/2 those times happen out in public, so people look at Jamie with sympathy because he has such a doofus for a mother.

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