While Stuart was at training, I used the opportunity to cover the living room in all my sewing bits and set about making a kaftan or two to take on holiday.
I really should have just gone with my first instinct to sit in front of the television and finish the tub of Ben & Jerrys that was calling to me from the freezer.
I had left my pins at mum's house but decided to forge on anyway, so the fabric was slipping all over the place while I was trying to cut it and sew it, resulting in wonky edges and seams. So I gave up on that one and got out the gorgeous John Kaldor fabric that I have been too scared to cut into for years. Big mistake.
It is slightly heavier than the other (cheap polyester) fabric I had been using and didn't slip around so much. I was doing really well, sewing slowly and carefully, until Stuart came home.
Now, this may sound like of a bit of boyfriend-bashing (and believe me, I went a bit over the top with it in the moment - something I deeply regretted straight after) but really it was mostly my fault for allowing this to happen.
Anyway, the tutorial I was following called for me to cut down the front of the kaftan I had just spent so much time and care on. I thought the easiest way to do it would be to wear the kaftan and ask Stuart to cut it for me after giving him what I thought were clear instructions - 'cut down the middle the curve out towards this leg slightly then straight down'.
He cut down the middle, then curved out towards that leg slightly.
Me: Now straight down the leg
Him - curving out more, and more
Me: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? STRAIGHT DOWN THE LEG!!
Him: You told me to curve out
Me: YEAH, THEN STRAIGHT DOWN THE LEG
Him: Well how am I supposed to know what you meant?
Cue an argument about how he's an idiot and I wasn't clear enough and me storming out, throwing myself on the bed and sobbing.
Overreaction? Hmm... maybe.
The kaftan's ruined though, and I'm not sure what to do about the fabric situation. Need to cool off for a couple of days before I can look at it again I think.