Cookie dough and burlap drapes
January 03, 2010 - 1:00 a.m.

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At work today, I'm sewing giant burlap drapes for the next show.

I have two helpers. One holds the drape coming out of the sewing machine, and one holds the slack of drape coming up over my shoulder, so nothing pulls and I can feed it easily.

I am dictating madly to these two poor helpers. A lot of:

"Don't let it twist!"

"Hold it firm and flat!"

"Don't touch the table; when it moves, my foot presses the peddle, and then everything goes to hell!"

I was sitting on a rolling chair with a table-set industrial sewing machine on a dolly, rolling backwards and sewing this drape.

I pause once:

"I'm sorry to sound like a bitch," I say. "I don't mean to. I just want things done correctly."

"You're not being a bitch," says my boss, where he's lingering beyond my peripheral. "You're just being clear with what you want."

Fair.

He also told me, in more words, that I was a valuable employee, and if I needed or wanted anything, all I had to do was say the word.

"Aaaaaaaaaanything?" I ask, wickedly.

"Anything," he says firmly.

I think for a moment.

"Can you find my cookie dough? It's in the building somewhere."

He just laughed, but I was serious.

I have a freakin' tub of double chocolate cookie dough with -- literally! -- my name on it, somewhere in the building.

And I can't bloody find it.

But I am assured it's in a freezer somewhere, waiting for me to pick it up...

Anyway, it's time for me to sleep.

Come see the show.

.

Rosie.

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