In the box....
Every time I go into the laundry room, I sigh. It's organized enough (maybe not for daughter Sutter, but she lives in New Zealand, so she doesn't have much to say about how I choose to live). I love you Sutter! I have enough clothes so I don't need to wash them so much these days, due to the drought conditions and restrictions for water use, that we are all under. But still I sigh. I sigh because I have neatly laid some clothes that need mending over the chair that I sit on, when I'm sewing. And they've been there for months. The last time I attempted to sew I broke a needle on the machine. But something else happened at the same time and nothing would work. I sighed. The sewing machine had belonged to my mom. I don't remember her sewing. But it was her's. And then it became mine. I did some sewing when Carl and I were first married. And then I only did mending on it. This sewing machine was a member of the heavy metal rock band...it was pure iron (