Where was I?
Ah yes… The machine stopped suddenly. I thought I’d simply run out of thread in the bobbin, so I opened the bobbin hatch and pulled on the bobbin release stick thing.
It came off in my hand.
This thing is supposed to be welded on. There I was, a little stick of metal in my hand, staring stupidly at the bobbin still in my machine. I fiddled around, fished the bobbin out and asked Deborah if this was serious.
She dropped everything and came around to have a look.
“Hmmmm, I’ve never seen anything like this before in all my years of teaching,” she murmured. I swallowed. I don’t mind standing out in a crowd but this didn’t sound good.
“Umm… can’t we just jiggle it a bit to get the bobbin back in or something? I asked.
She straightened up from peering at the machine and turned to me. “You can’t use it. That stick holds the bobbin in. Your machine can’t work. It needs a new bobbin case.”
I blinked at her. I looked at my lovely new machine. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I looked around the room at all of the sympathetic faces looking at me from over the tops of their perfectly behaved machines. It wasn’t fair.
“Go and call the shop straight away. This is outrageous. They should check out and service every machine that they have come through their doors…”
I went to the front of Amitie and borrowed their phone and dialed the number of the shop in Camberwell. A cheery voice answered. A young girl who wasn’t there the night before when I’d bought the machine.
I explained my problem, with particular emphasis on how I had only bought the machine from them five minutes before.
“Well, just pop down and we’ll give you a new bobbin case,” the girl said.
Between gritted teeth, I explained that I was in a class. A class that I had bought the machine for.
“What sort of class?” asked the girl. She was very chirpy.
“A free motion quilting class,” I said.
“OOO, how lovely!”
“Not anymore,” I wailed.
I went back to the rest of the class. I knew I had to use the teacher’s machine for the rest of the day. Again. She was demonstrating the next design we were going to try. I stood behind the other women and felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I felt so cold, empty and disappointed. Why was it that everything I try and do ends up turning to shit?
Don’t you dare cry! I thought to myself. (Well, not being pyschic I couldn’t think to anyone else.) Don’t you lose it! Get a grip! I knew that if anyone spoke to me at that particular moment I’d cry like a baby. Which is NOT what Frogdancer is all about. So I focused on what we were meant to be learning, swallowed hard and pinched my hand to make myself think about something else. It worked. The sooky la-la teary feeling went away.
During the morning tea break I packed up the machine. No point having it sit there mocking me. I was crawling under the table to unplug the power cord when I said, “This machine is going to have a man’s name. It’s definitely a man! It lulled me into a false sense of security, and then he pulled the rug out from under me. It’s a man all right….”
After class I drove straight to the Camberwell shop and picked up the new bobbin case. They gave me excellent customer service. They were as gobsmacked as the teacher because apparently this NEVER happens.
On the way home the perfect name for my machine popped into my head.
He and Elizabeth Bennet started out badly, but in the end they had a beautiful relationship.
I’m telling the cosmos now that this is what is going to happen here. Otherwise I’ll throw it into a lake, where I’ll bet my Mr Darcy will NOT emerge looking all sexy and interesting.