I am a seamster, which does not, as you might expect, refer to my actively seaming, so much as it does to my cosmic, astonishing ability to sew. I can sew things. I am in fact “the man” at sewing things. I sew like the proverbial Stygian bat.
Actually I’m fairly awful at it by anyone’s standards but my own, but the fact remains that not only did I successfully fix up three years-old rips in my favorite coat, I also made repairs on another shirt entirely. That’s four (count ’em) different seams in two articles of clothing, for an average of two seams per article. At least three of those consisted of itsy bitsy stitches, and two of those I actually did inside out for that nifty hidden-seam effect.
Too many italics. Next topic. My roommates got me a pirate monkey! Or possibly a monkey pirate! Either way I’m going to marry them. Also, go hang loose in the new forums right now. They taste of delicate butters.