03 December 2014


I took a pair of trousers to be hemmed today. 

I bought the trousers (and the matching suit jacket) for $70 each, about five years ago. They are both talls, so the trouser legs were always a little long, but I used to wear heels inside, and they were the perfect length for that. 

Over the years, the hems fell out. The trouser legs got longer. 

I stopped wearing heels. The trouser legs appeared even longer.

Now they drag on the ground unless I do something dramatic like tuck them into the back of my shoes. The result is that I haven't worn the trousers since, uh, probably 2011. 

I started wearing skirts and dresses most of the time anyway, so it didn't matter much.

But yesterday I finally tried to get them hemmed at a little shop nearby. I went by the shop at 9:54 am (approx.) and it was closed. It opened, according to the sign, at 10:00. It was 27 degrees out, but I waited. 

10:00 passed. I blew on my fingers and waited some more. 

Finally at 10:06, I called it and went to run my next errand. (The bank, in case it matters, which it doesn't.)

I went back this morning around 11:00, to find the store (wo)manned by a chatty Polish woman in her 60s. I put on the trousers, and she safety-pinned one of the legs at the correct length and told me to come back on Tuesday.

Then we talked about her daughters and their similarity to her father, and how Tuesday and Thursday sound the same with her accent (Tews-day and Tuurs-day), and how she doesn't go to the doctor because health insurance is too expensive. 

I hate running a business, but I am a little jealous of her peaceful little shop with people coming and going and all colors of thread on the wall and the hum of a sewing machine.

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