I really thought I was kidding when I checked my calendar for the week, making sure that I had three days with few places to go before I purchased that beer on Sunday. I thought in reality I'd be fine. Little did I imagine it was almost exactly three days to the hour that it would take me down. I was still moving slowly this morning, when I went out and had a terrible cup of coffee on the patio (I made a horrible error with the grind for the beans), with the dogs cuddling up next to me, keeping my feet warm and demanding all of my attention. I moped through most of the day. It wasn't until mid-afternoon, when my foster daughter called to compel me to work more on the wedding dress, that I started feeling perky again. The hell, man? I'm glad it's over now, but that is an experiment that I will not be repeating to see whether I can duplicate the results. Not worth it. Not even for the sake of unquestionable truth.
It didn't feel like I made much progress on the wedding dress. I worked on lace only. The seam holding the sleeve together was machine-sewn, but that was only the tiniest bit of what I did for it over the course of about three hours. The instruction call for the decorative edge of lace to be cut off a scrap so that it can be delicately pieced onto the sleeve with invisible hand stitches. (This is necessary so that a short piece of lace can have a decorative edge on both the top and bottom pieces.) This process took hours, while my foster daughter sat around, trying to find ways to keep herself entertained while I worked. She made a pillow for the ring-bearer out of scrap fabric and lace and some polyfill that I've had for years. In fact, she did her entire project in about half of the time I sewed those stupid cuffs. For all of this, I'm still not done with the lace. The sleeves are still separate from the bodice. I swear, I am never going to say disparaging things about the cost of wedding dresses ever again. Finally, I understand.
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