Waiting for C. to finish sewing a straight line. The 30 year old sewing machine is plaguing her, and every time it does something silly I have to take over and fix it, because I just can't explain how to thread it or do anything from any angle other than directly in front of it. I doubt I could even draw a picture from memory of what all the bits are that the thread has to go through. But I can damn sure thread the thing even at 11:30 at night when I am this tired.
I was the only one who saw the Bourne Identity who thought it was believable that Franka and whatshisname shagged. I think I was prejudiced by my extreme desire to make her mine.
