Dialogue With My Sewing Machine

Below is a writing exercise assigned by the instructor of an online creative writing course I'm taking. It seemed like a fun exercise at the time, but maybe it's just silly.

Me: I really should put you back in the cabinet.

Sewing Machine: Why? I couldn’t see anything in there.

Me: But you are taking up space that I could use for something else.

SM: So what? This cabinet top is a mess anyway.

Me: I know. But if I put you away, I could straighten it up.

SM: You know what’s here; you don’t need, and probably won’t, get it in any sort of order,

Me: You’re right. But Den thinks you look messy. Besides, if I put you away, you will stay cleaner.

SM: I’m not so sure that would happen. What about all the dog hair flying around? It would just catch in my parts and never get dusted off. At least now there’s a slight chance I’ll get wiped down every couple of weeks. Now I have a question for you – why don’t you ever use me anymore?

Me: No time.

SM: You could make time. You’re making time for this course; you make time to knit. Why can’t you make time to sew?

Me: I don’t know. I used to sew a lot.

SM: I know. We made lots of things together; I bet we could again.

Me: But I was never very good. Well, maybe the down vests and jacket were good, but those were kits. I don’t really know how to sew very well.

SM: And you never will if you don’t practice. Think about it.

Human Hibernation?

It seems that all I want to do this time of year is sleep. And eat, but we won't talk about that. If I ignore it, it will go away, right? Is this always being tired a way of coping with the cold and dark? Or do I suffer just a bit from SAD?

I have always liked winter, or at least I did after I learned to cross country ski (Thanks, Ginny). It is the perfect time to get outside and enjoy the trees and bushes stripped of their greenery, with the bare branches dark against the snow. And the snow - sparkling like crystals; nothing is more beautiful.

But this year, I haven't even thought about skiing, probably because I now have a tendency to break something when I fall. The snow is still beautiful, the stars seem to shine more brightly than at other times of the year, but I just don't seem to want to be outside as much. The couch next to the fireplace is very comfortable, and there are lots of books just waiting to be read. The problem is, my eyes want to close, all on their own, when I get warm and cozy in the living room. I think it has to do with hibernation.

It wouldn't surprise me if, thousands of years ago, humans were able to curl up in caves and take a long winter nap, just like bears. How else were they going to survive the freezing cold? Those skimpy animal loin cloths certainly weren't going to keep them from freezing their tushes off. And did you see the article about the Swedish snowmobilers who found a man who had been trapped in his car for two months? He was still alive! Doctors think that because his core body temperature dropped to 88 degrees F. and he kept very still, he was able to survive.

Doesn't this prove humans can hibernate? Not that I would want to try to survive an ordeal like the Swedish man, but maybe I can use this human hibernation as an excuse to take my afternoon nap every day without feeling guilty.