"Oh no," I stared at the table in disbelief. They had to be kidding. Normally, when I make a pattern, there is lots of fabric left and I convince myself that I will use the bits to make wonderful other things. This time I could barely fit the pieces on.
"What's wrong?" The voice came down the other end of the phone.
"The pieces won't fit on my fabric," I wailed. This was not good. This never happens. This must be what happens when you a) wash the fabric and b) lengthen the arms.
The voice was concerned, somewhat. "So what are the ramifications of this?"
"Well, I'm going to have to shift the pieces around." I stared glumly down at the layout. There is a reason that cutting out is not fun. Even omitting the fact that tailor tacking follows cutting out.
"So you're not going to have to make a miniature size shirt?"
I wished once again that you could send glares down the phone. Or howlers - this comment deserved a howler by owl post.
"No, it means that I'd better look at the instructions and see how you're supposed to lay it out."
The laughter and derision coming down the phone made me realise once again how fortunate I was in my friends and family.
I changed the topic into more neutral waters and kept playing with the pieces. Then it seemed as though I had finally gotten it, I drew my breath in sharply.
"Did you get it?"
"Um, yes, er, no, wait a second, let me move this a fraction this way, and smooth this one out, um, um, ah-HA! YES! It fits! Oh, this one is off the end, no it doesn't" Suppressed muttering followed.
"That was a wide range of emotions in a very short span of time."
Welcome to the world of tailoring. It's like a theme park, apparently, the more you scream, the more fun you're having.
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