I just bought a sewing machine. It has nothing to do with the fact that we went to an open house for an urban redevelopment community downtown today with Scott & Jay and that we're considering looking further into purchasing a home within the next year.
It's mostly because I've always wanted to have one on-hand for hemming up my pants, as I am doomed forever to have to buy jeans that are way too long for me. Even at my thinnest I wore a size 5 or 6 and length was always a problem.
I'd also like a sewing maching for fixing little tears or for making my own pillows, maybe even comforters . . . crap like that. I don't imagine that I'll ever make quilts or my own clothes; I'm not that talented at much of anything and have clear memories of a home-ec course in high school where I continued to break needles in the machine and could never thread the bobbins very well. I did really enjoy using the serger, which simultaneously cut and sewed something like a thousand stitches per minutes. I just liked running fabric through it and watching the magic happen.
We've talked about the open house off and on today, both agreeing that we were impressed with all the options in the homes, but that we were concerned with the price and the neighborhood. Of course, anywhere you buy a house – or even rent – you're taking a chance that it will improve. As long as people buy there, it can only improve the neighborhood, but there's definitely a sense of: hmmmmm, now what might we be getting in to?
Charlie and Cavan took the dogs for a walk while I mopped the kitchen floor (everytime someone comes over I'm disgusted with the house and have to clean, clean, clean afterwards). Charlie told me he was telling Cavan about how much we liked the homes and what a great thing it would be to own a house, do what we liked to it, have a newer construction home with a vintage look to it . . . but there's also that but-can-we-make-that-kind-of-commitment?
I dunno. Something to think about.