Repairing a bed sheet
On top of having my first baby last year, I undertook participation in my first pandemic. Wow, what a double-loop roller coaster ride it has been. But I'm dizzy now and I would like to get off the ride, Sir.
Between managing the demands of a small child and having anxiety attacks in supermarket aisles the time for crafting has been very scarce and, frankly, I have not been interested. There have been spurts of activity. During the newborn phase I whipped up some baby playmats for gifts; there has been a weaving; and, I made a bunch of party favours and decorations for my child's first birthday party that we were supposed to have back in July.
So, when our bed sheets tore from a combination of dog jumping, sleeping and generally nothing that could resemble a sex life, I decided I would repair them, but could I even be bothered? Our pink sheet tore first. We didn't remove it straight away because, pandemic, so it tore even more. Eventually removed, it was put in a pile for repairs. A few weeks later the blue sheet tore. We were quick to remove it this time so the repair would be smaller. But I still had no motivation to do the repairs.
With the warmer weather of Spring in Melbourne I was starting to get an itching to do some crafting but felt obliged to complete the boring jobs before I could do the fun jobs. This feels like a similar trap to housecleaning and self neglect that mother's find themselves adopting on behalf of their families. Do the dishes, the vacuuming, the food prep before you have that relaxing bath you need. Oh dear, you ran out of time for the bath. Better luck tomorrow.
Not wanting to waste too much of my precious time on repairing sheets we would inevitably be replacing I got to ‘darning’. This was a “no investment” project. I wasn't going to spend time researching the method on how to darn a torn sheet. I wasn't going buy the matching colour thread (I cannot go to the shops due to lockdown anyway but if I could have, I wouldn't have). I didn't care if the scrap fabric matched. Heck, I wasn't even going to iron the sheets to make sure the fabric matched up nicely. This was simply a get it done project and I found it oddly freeing.
With no research, investment or thought I just jumped straight in, ‘cause remember we are in a pandemic, and ‘cause we are in a pandemic you are allowed to not invest in things you don’t want to invest in. You don't have to 'master' every hobby that you have or interest that pops up.
Our dining table has always been used as my sewing table. Then last year it became an office desk, so here is where I try to undertackle (that’s not a typo) the repair. What an inspirational location.
I found some yellow cheesecloth (also known as poor persons Linen) and would use that to support the repairs. For the pink sheet I used grey and pink thread. The pink thread ran out half way so I grabbed a different pink thread. YOLO.
I roughly pinned the fabric and from the back of the sheet I blind stitched the cheesecloth. Blind stitch is a technique I made up that may or may not already exist. It is not a fancy technique. I literally didn't look to see where the fabric lined up, I just bloody stitched it on. Then, working blind again, I stitched another straight line on the other side of the tear. With the fabric secured to the underside of the sheet, I flipped the sheet over.
I couldn't be bothered figuring out which stitch option on my machine was for darning so I used my pre-existing stitch swatch that illustrates all the fancy quilting stitches I have never used before and selected option 29.
Because my bobbin and top thread didn't match I was now going to be seeing in a contrasting colour and I couldn't have cared less. I pinched the fabric together as best I could but the yellow cheesecloth from underneath came through and it didn't bother me as the entire repair was a bit of a Frankenstein anyway.
Non-pro tip: I did find it was easier to repair the Branches of the Tear Tree and then tackle the Trunk last.
And voilà a hack-job repair that no-one will ever see because your doona covers the bloody sheet and no-one is allowed to your house anyway.
A celebration of mediocrity and a real world glimpse into the mindset of a working, new mum with no shits left to give during a world wide pandemic. So, go ahead and just do the bare minimum and get to the fun stuff sooner.
