Two Christmases ago, in 2016, after we'd opened the gifts and had the meal and were just hanging around, one of our kids noticed that the serger sewing machine both girls adore had gone on sale at the cheapest price they'd ever seen. As someone who sews, I should get it, and now!
So I did. It arrived the day they both left. The room in which I sew was and is a clutterfest, so I didn't even set it up right away. No, first I had to do a significant amount of rearranging to clear a flat surface. Once I did, I discovered there was no available outlet. Months later I remembered to buy a cube tap for the nearest outlet. Now we're cookin', right? Not really. Even in daylight, the space is dark. I had an available outlet but no lamp that wasn't in use.
Okay, so I get this hideous orange architect's lamp out of the basement--how can metal retain that basement smell?--and mounted, and... holy Mother of God, how do I thread this? And where's the DVD that came with the machine? No idea. It's not in the box. Did I bury it when I cleared the space? Maybe. I go through all the debris. Nope.
YouTube has videos, so I become a connoisseur of Threading the Serger porn. Most of it's poorly done, with forearms blocking what I need to see, staccato narration I can't quite make out, or a camera that gets tilted so only a portion of the machine is in the shot. (Seriously, you decided that was worth sharing?) The best ones seem to indicate I don't have all the parts, such as four plastic cones on which my cone thread sits, or the requisite tweezers for the tightest threading spots. None explains the little plastic tray I do have, which looks like it escaped from my refrigerator door.
Anyway, after watching probably two hours of video, I have threaded the machine and made it chain. I have already cut some straight-line sewing projects. I'm doing this!
Maryn, scared of new tech, apparently
So I did. It arrived the day they both left. The room in which I sew was and is a clutterfest, so I didn't even set it up right away. No, first I had to do a significant amount of rearranging to clear a flat surface. Once I did, I discovered there was no available outlet. Months later I remembered to buy a cube tap for the nearest outlet. Now we're cookin', right? Not really. Even in daylight, the space is dark. I had an available outlet but no lamp that wasn't in use.
Okay, so I get this hideous orange architect's lamp out of the basement--how can metal retain that basement smell?--and mounted, and... holy Mother of God, how do I thread this? And where's the DVD that came with the machine? No idea. It's not in the box. Did I bury it when I cleared the space? Maybe. I go through all the debris. Nope.
YouTube has videos, so I become a connoisseur of Threading the Serger porn. Most of it's poorly done, with forearms blocking what I need to see, staccato narration I can't quite make out, or a camera that gets tilted so only a portion of the machine is in the shot. (Seriously, you decided that was worth sharing?) The best ones seem to indicate I don't have all the parts, such as four plastic cones on which my cone thread sits, or the requisite tweezers for the tightest threading spots. None explains the little plastic tray I do have, which looks like it escaped from my refrigerator door.
Anyway, after watching probably two hours of video, I have threaded the machine and made it chain. I have already cut some straight-line sewing projects. I'm doing this!
Maryn, scared of new tech, apparently