I've been wrestling with the devil for days.
I was so proud of my autistic friend Bruce for biting the bullet and spending some of his hard earned money on some new pants--specifically, three pairs of jeans. They arrived unhemmed, so I volunteered to hem them for him. After all, I've done lots of sewing in my day...blah, blah.
I picked up the pants from him on Saturday, knowing that he had to have at least one pair done for work on Tuesday. Had the whoooole weekend to work on them. Took the rest of the day off.
On Sunday, I attended online church, then watched some TV--all the while knowing that I just needed to get started on those pants. But...they were heavy denim, which would be hard on my hands...and I knew they would take longer than usual...and I knew I wasn't going to be satisfied with the "by hand" results. But I haven't used my sewing machine in forever and had somewhat messed it up the last time I did. Needless to say, I didn't even get started on Sunday. This is where the devil-bargaining began.
Monday, I had to have at least one hemmed pair to take to Bruce for work on Tuesday. (He didn't have other pants to rely on. One had a rip, and one had lost a button. Neither fit.) I had the whole day to hem one pair of heavy denim jeans in order to get them to him by dark. (I don't drive after dark.)
I dragged my feet. I watched TV. I made some food. I kept telling myself that I needed to get started--get out my sewing box...find the best light to do the job...etc. An hour passed. Another hour passed. I was beginning to panic due to my own inaction.
Okay, so maybe I can do the measuring and pinning, and my friend Judy maybe has her sewing machine already set up and can do the stitching. I'll just do one pair on Monday. That will give me two days to do the others before Bruce needs them. Or, he could wear the finished pair twice in one week, which would give me a few more days to do the other two. OR, he could just wear old, ripped pants that don't fit until my brain can gear up. I was trying to make things easier on me. Panic set in. I didn't even call Judy...
All the while, the devil was screaming in my ear, "No! You volunteered! You procrastinated! Someone was counting on you, but you have failed! You have let Bruce down! Now you must suffer the consequences of your behavior! You must face shame and embarrassment!
And then...and then...a dove of peace descended over my head--along with a light bulb idea.
I got on my computer and Googled local clothing alteration shops. In two phone calls, I found a professional seamstress close by who was willing to hem all three pairs of jeans on short notice and have them ready by 5:30. (It was already after 2:00 PM.) The Heavens opened and a choir of angels sang The Hallelujah Chorus. I felt such relief! Yes, I had to pay her $12.50 for each pair of jeans hemmed, but it was worth every penny. Wish I had just done all of this on Saturday when I picked up the pants from Bruce. It would have saved me a whole weekend of anxiety.
Get thee behind me, Satan! I win this time!
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