There were adventures to be had, and mayhem was accomplished last night. I may be paying the Piper this morning though. Okay, let’s start with my plans for world domination.
Since the office/dungeon/stitchery room is also our bedroom and living room, I couldn’t do as much as I wanted yesterday. Hubsy wasn’t feeling well, and slept through the day. My nasty habit of making noise wasn’t good, so I stitched for a bit.
I worked on 3 projects. I have 2 desk projects, things I can do while wearing a headset and either reading or watching something. Yes, I can stitch and read at the same time. I can also pat my head and rub my belly. Sighs. So, I started with the desk projects.
Once Hubsy woke, I worked on the nearest tote. It had a couple of wips in it, and I have a deadline on one of those. That’s when the rabbit hole happened. I began to stitch, on the treadle, and lost track of the universe for quite awhile. It’s bad, my shoulders are sore, and since I converted the iron lady to a hand crank, my hands are killing me, but there’s more.
Hubsy eventually got really sick and tired of the iron lady making that much noise. He interrupted the ZONE, and insisted on oiling her. First, he wanted to use WD40. I didn’t gnaw his arm off once I found a little reality from being that deep into the realms of stitchery. I found my sewing machine oil, and then it happened.
He DROWNED MY TREADLE IN OIL.
At first, I didn’t know how bad it was. I rethreaded her, and replaced the needle. I put the bobbin back in and grabbed some crap fabric to work on realigning the works. The next thing I new, the thread snapped. I went to rethread it, and there was a strange bulb at the bottom of the needle. It was oil. OH my. I wiped it, and it came back. I wiped it again.. and again.
First, I reached out to my daughter, who is a ZONE stitcher, and she calmed me down. We talked via messenger until I was no longer homicidal. I promised that I wouldn’t commit homicide, because she had to go and be a responsible adult. Okay, I also reminded her that I loved her. I had a cigarette, and then another. I still haven’t said anything out loud.
One of my bff’s who is also of the stitcherly bent was about to go live on Twitch. I kept trying to work with the machine, and said I was going to lurk when she came on. I kept snapping threads, and the machine kept dripping and oozing oil.
Eventually, I joined the chat, and explained what was going on. This was about 8:30 PM by this time. I grabbed those thick paper towels I love, and just let the machine drip, occassionally leaving the chat and monkeyed with the machine. My heart was probably going mach 80 at the point.
Fancy diabetic medications do not deal well with heart rates of mach fricking 80. Just a FYI.
My friend suggested that I use a little of this and that, and try to degrease my beloved iron lady. Which got my head to thinking. Yes, it hurt to think. However, I have some 91 proof rubbing alcohol. I also have a gun cleaning kit.
I took my sweet Lady out of her base, and laid her gently on paper toweling. I then began to strip as much oil out of her with qtips, a gun cleaning kit, and determination. By 11:30 at night, the twitch stream was done, and she was back in her base.This morning I am a little calmer.
Now for today. I have to take her out again, and recheck my work. I’m thinking of doing a major overhaul on her, in a proper manner. An emergency strip down may have done a bit of damage in the night, and I want to basically take her apart tysytube style, and get the 98 years of build up off of her inner workings. However, before I do that, I have to get some more decent supplies.
I need a fine steel wool. I need and extended gun cleaning kit. I need paint and other mods. My Iron Lady isn’t worth as much as I wish she was. Her decals have degraded from use to the point that doing a full paint on her would be okay. Her retail value is bout 25 dollars in her condition.
That said, with a much better condition iron Lady coming this spring, I am okay with removing her decals, stripping down her guts, and cleaning the crap out of her. Think of it like an abdominal surgery prep, with that horrible drink involved.
I’ve got to get her taken care of properly. I also need to seal some areas that have converted to rust. So, painting her it is. Sadly, all sewing projects are on hold. I let the one person know I am having machine problems. Her special pen case is going to have to wait.
Hugs all, and don’t worry about the Hubsy. He still has no clue that he caused this much trauma. I didn’t yell, scream, or gut him. I promise. -L