Well hi there. Brother CE8080, is it? Kind of a handful for a name if you ask me. How ’bout Cece, can we agree? Very well then, let’s move on.
You’ve got a tough act to follow, just so’s you know. But not just any old machine follows me home. You’ve got some kind of charm, I can see. And so many bells and whistles. Perhaps we could get to know one another…
Alright, I see you’ve got skills. But do I really need so many stitches? A tiny blade to slice my bobbin thread? Seems lavish, really.
But perhaps I deserve a little luxury in a sewing machine. Maybe you see right through me. I am a little lusty for your one-step buttonholes….
Don’t bat your pretty eyelashes at me! You know I can’t resist. Oh alright, I suppose you can stay the night. Just a sampler and then away with you first thing in the morning!
Well, maybe just after breakfast….
Dear Singer 237,
You dear old sod, you are so full of character. Nothing fancy, and reliable as the ticking clock. Together we’ve made my most cherished creations, and I get a warm fuzzy feeling when I smell your dusty machinery.
Found by the side of the road, a cast-off. Clogged with smoke and sweat, you were lovingly cleaned and mended by my family, and gifted to me. And what a gift. How many of your friends will mend holes in your socks?
You know I’ve never been bothered by your lack of fancy stitches, nor by your finicky bobbin winder or your gradually disintegrating belt. Give you a shiny new needle and you’d sew up a storm.
But lately, you’ve been sounding a little wheezy in the chest, and your foot-peddle crackles in the most disturbing way. And we both know I can’t drop your feed-dogs…
So yesterday, I folded you back under your table, wound up your cord, and replaced you with a newer model.
I know you are hurting at my slight. I am hurting too love, I miss your scent and mechanical noises, your strong metal exterior. But we both need to move on. You need rest. I need free-motion quilting.