Sewing Time! a tender moment waiting to go sideways in Hand-Hell.

Sewing Time? In Hand-HELL maybe!

Normally I welcome the opportunity to break out my old sewing basket and make a small repair. Fixing a missing button or torn edge is a simple way to extend the usable life of an object for myself or a loved one. A mundane yet tender activity, taken for granted until... your fingertips fall off and open sores linger in their absence. Domestic bliss morphs into HELL when firey pain interjects sharp jolts of rage into the protracted, frustrating charade of a once simple task. 

Sewing is particularly nostalgic since I inherited my mum's old sewing chest. This was the box she whipped out in my childhood to mend treasured objects like my comfort blanket, blankie-boo-boo. 

I collect sewing notions at shops like Daiso, the Japanese dollar store. It is satisfying to have the right tool when needed. During one winter without fingertips I fought and lost a battle with a loose drawstring duct-taped to a pencil, so I appreciate stuff like the thingie for threading lost draw-strings through lounging pants. Sometimes nothing helps, but the right tool can make life easier for those of us in hand-hell.

Work-arounds are nice, but I would love to solve my problem once and forever. I'm having fantasies about summertime and the possibilities of my fingers healing over in the heat that will surely come. But, as surely as the wheel follows the ox that pulls the cart, winter will come and my fingers will tingle, crust and the fingertips will just fall off.

Today I darned the edge of a hole my sweetie burned in a favorite sweater. I used yard and a big fat needle, only hurting myself and cursing out loud once. It was more of a simple bark, not a chain of profanity which comes from worse damage.

So there you have it, daily indignity #3, sewing time!

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