There is no happiness in this installment of the Simply Melissy chronicles. There is misfortune in the beginning, dashed hopes in the middle, and, I am sorry to say, no happy ending.
If you choose to continue, you will have the misfortune of reading about a series of very unfortunate events relating to the tragic creation of a pajama shirt. It Reading on, you will come across such atrocities as upside down sewing machines, creepy crawlies, and single fold bias tape.
Though it is my solemn duty to record these events, there is nothing stopping you from closing your browser, and searching happier sections of the internet. If you choose to continue, you will likely be too distraught to do anything but stare at your wall, and sigh.
It began on a lovely summer day, when Melissa, who hates all things relating to the outdoors in the summer months, chose to stay inside and prepare for the coming colder months. She had purchased some yards of a lovely sewing machine print fabric, and looked forward to chilly nights wrapped in flannel.
She washed the fabric, hung it to dry, and cut out the pattern pieces. She unfolded the fabric, and began to prepare for cutting. As she carefully positioned the paper pieces onto the fabric, she realized there was no where near enough!
After a shock, she quickly recovered. “A pink yoke!” she said, happily, to no one in particular.
It didn’t end there.
As she struggled to find room for the sleeves, front and back, she realized she would need to flip the fabric. The sewing machines were upside down. Just like her happiness.
Being an eternal optimist, she cut and sewed. Roadblocks continued. After sewing the bias tape, she realized the yoke was somehow both upside and backwards.
No matter! She went to the store, bought some more fabric…
At this point, she wanted so scream and sigh, at the same time.
And she would. But not yet.
She ripped the stitches… and some fabric.
She tarried on, until the worst thing that could have possibly happened.
Alas, it is too ghastly to name. I will not terrify you with descriptions of its long, thin body, and hundreds upon hundreds of legs. This thing, this unmentionable, slithered out from beneath her fabric bin, and invaded her personal space.
Oh how she screamed. So loud that her father raced down to dispose of the beast. But it was too late. The damage was done.
There would be no more sewing that evening.
The next day, though scared, she decided to finish the pajama shirt once and for all. As she attached the sleeves, and trimmed some off of the sides.
This was her worst mistake yet.
After every stitch was finished, every seam ironed, she was excited, despite the tragedy that had just transpired.
But alas, it was too small.
And too big.
At the exact same time.
The sleeves, too big, and where they may have been comfort and warmth in them, only ridicule appeared when torso, too, was much, much, too small.
It was folded neatly, after nearly losing her head trying to take it off, and placed atop a dresser.
And there it remains.