I have a lovely son; well, actually I have 4 lovely sons but this is about Andrew. Andrew, stairs and white thread. I needed to do the binding on a quilt, unfortunately I was downstairs and my thread was upstairs. I keep my thread in a drawer clearly marked 'thread' and Andrew knows my sewing room well. Easy job, right?
I sweetly called my 14 year old son to rescue me from having to climb the stairs again. I asked him to get me some white thread.This is what he found; white thread but not what I needed to sew binding with. He found it in the drawer clearly marked; thread. He went back upstairs,
then came back with this spool; white thread but I do not sew with silk thread unless it's a wedding dress. Found in the other drawer labeled with a faded label; thread. (I remember that drawer, now, I put in all the threads not appropriate for the sewing machine in there; silk, water soluble, nylon, just to avoid this problem.) Oops, this job is getting a bit harder. He went back upstairs.
This time I said it didn't have to be exactly white just something close to white.
He came down with this; white thread but clearly too heavy for what I was doing. In ANOTHER drawer marked thread, specialty thread, but still thread. (And I THOUGHT I'd mailed all my hand quilting thread to my Mother, guess not.)
By now he was not as cheerful and then I spied this;
JUST what I needed sitting right next to the bottom of the stairs on the top of my featherweight. Oops.
One last trip up the stairs, this time with a happy step to get some of this;
Don't you wish you had a go-pher? What am I going to do in 5 years when he leaves?