For fuck's sake, it never occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to use the hand-crank sewing machine that used to belong to Bloke's mum. Gah. It took me ages to steel myself to get started - working out how to lay the bits of pattern on the cloth, all that kind of malarkey, makes me unnecessarily anxious [which immediately reminds me the word I couldn't find to describe my emotions is 'due' - anxiety about this is undue in the scheme of things, but whichever way you look at it, 'anxiety' about ED is due, and then some] but anyway, here's the sewing machine:



which I'd only glimpsed briefly - lifted the lid, saw the handle, knew I knew how to use one of those, and let it sit by the sofa for a year and never for a second thought of bobbins. This machine has one unlike any I've seen before, bullet shaped, and I can't find any advice on what to do with it. I got all my pieces nicely cut out and all:



Kind of tempted to hand sew them, but will try and identify a sewing machine owner amongst my mob first and do it round theirs.

I'm meant to be going up to cook dinner for Grandson and SIL on Tuesday, staying the night (on the floor), then driving the wheelchair/van thing over to ED's and taking her out. I realise that I seriously don't want to. I want to see her, fuck do I want to see her, but the driving, the bad sleep, spending the evening with silent SIL, or non-silent, letting it all out, tearful SIL - I don't have it in me. So I don't know what I'll do about that. I don't like letting GS down, but I also have to look after myself, on which note I shall go to bed.

Grateful for: furry slippers on a cold night; finding the nerve to cut out the pattern; being alone all day, not having to watch my face, to make sure it's not upsetting anybody; a good breakfast, just down the road; cheese on toast, which I'm about to make and eat...

Sweet dreams xx