Sewing in a Microwave
by Toni Carroll
It is a very fortunate thing for me that my husband, Charlie, has such a great sense of humor. I hope he can hold on to it, if I ever do manage to actually burn the house down.
Recently, I decided to do some fabric scrunching. Usually, I wet the fabric, twist it up, secure it in panty hose and throw it in the dryer with the laundry. Problem was, I had already done all my laundry, so it went in alone. After 3 hours of thud, thud, thud, my nerves were shot, and it still wasn't dry! Suddenly, my eyes got big, a huge light bulb went on over my head and my index finger pointed heavenward. "I'll nuke it", I muttered. With no idea how long it would take, I decided three minutes in the microwave would be fine. I ran to do a quick project elsewhere in the house, forgetting that the timer on the microwave had been sticking. With no internal sense of time, I was oblivious to my impending disaster. Much later, I walked back into my kitchen. Whoa, what is that awful smell? Yikes, why are my eyes burning? Oh my gosh, the microwave. I threw open the door and smoke came billowing out! I flipped on the exhaust fan. No help there. By now my eyes are watering like crazy. Geez, I thought. I'm going to the quilt show with Loretta, and now I have to repair my makeup…bummer. It never occurred to me that the fire department wouldn't care how I looked if they had to come battle a kitchen fire. I'm sooooo vain!
There I was, tearing around my house, trying to throw open the windows. Oh great, all the windows have those halfway-up stops on them to keep burglars out. The previous owners obviously didn't understand experimentation. How boring, but I'll think about that tomorrow. Burglars didn't want in …I wanted out! So I tore to the patio sliders and opened them wide. Gasping for air and trying to see through the tears, I glanced down at my little yorkie dog, Dixie, looking up at me trustingly and wondering what the heck I was doing this time. Oh, I wailed, I'm a terrible mother. I'm going to gas my darling Dixie! Suddenly I had visions of my sweet Charlie coming home from the golf course to find me and our little Dixie sprawled out from fume inhalation. I had to get us outside. Frantically I grabbed her and rushed outside.
Whew, another crisis abated. I decided it was safe to go check on the scrunched fabric, assuming it was probably the panty hose that caused all the trouble. Well wrong…wadded-up-fabric breath! As soon as I reached the kitchen I was once again slammed with fumes. Well, that does it, my makeup is completely gone now! I'm huffing and puffing and breaking into a sweat. I don't worship at the altar of Thigh Master or Sweating to the Oldies. I like flab. It keeps me humble and pads my sewing seat. This was turning into entirely too much exercise. Why the heck do you think I sew? It's a sit down activity!
Grabbing some tongs, I snatched the now hated smoking wad and ran out back with it. I plopped it down on a stump and figured that was that. Muttering a few obscenities, I went back inside.
I set about removing the little rivers of mascara cascading down my cheeks. Later, I glanced out back only to see that stinking ball still smoking. Now I've had enough! This has gone way too far. Taking the tongs and poking around on the wad, I discovered that it was actually glowing in the middle. Good grief...I've created a fabric briquette. I have to kill it once and for all. So, off I went to find the garden hose. I came back like a woman possessed. I hosed that sucker down. I drowned it. I soaked it. I sent it to scrunch heaven, forever. With my eyes glazed over, I threw back my head and laughed a defiant farewell. I cleaned myself up, Loretta arrived, and off we went to enjoy the beautiful quilts.
Later, arriving back home, I found Charlie back from golf. "Hi Honey", I chirped. "Sweetheart", he called, with a question mark in his voice. "Ummm, just exactly what did you have for lunch? Whatever it was…it smells awful!"
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