So, because I need to document my streak as the world's luckiest woman, this is what happened to me Saturday morning.
First off, I had a last-minute errand that could not be done over the Internet (I know, hard to conceive of!) and said errand could be accomplished (in a rare turn of events for a Saturday) without the charming yet exhausting company of a six-year-old boy, AND was out by one of the best antique stores in Chicago (which The Sewist introduced me to), of course I stopped there, and I bought some Christmas presents (as well as some vintage patterns of which more anon).
While I was in the store a kindly middle-aged man walked in and asked the proprietors if they wanted an old Singer sewing machine. He wasn't looking to sell it, he added; he just didn't need it any more and wanted to give it a good home.
Now, the owners were really busy (the store was full of mothers and daughters intent on touching every one of the thousands of pieces of costume jewelry) and they were not interested. So the man asked the store at large: "Anyone want an old sewing machine?"
No one else looked up, or even seemed to be paying attention. So I raised my hand, and said "Well, I'd be happy to take a look at it."
Out we go to the parking lot, where his black Mini Cooper was parked right next to my green Honda. He pops his trunk and there it is — a lovely little antique Singer, in a beat-up wooden case.
"This is valuable," I told him. "You should sell it. You should let me pay you!"
"Nah, I just want it out of my house." He wouldn't even let me do the putting of it in my trunk. He shook my hand, and told me "Merry Christmas!" (And I swear I heard sleigh bells when he drove off.)
So that's the story of how a stranger in Park Ridge gave me a Singer sewing machine. It looks to be in good shape, probably electrified early on (there's a foot pedal, and a light). I'll probably get it tuned up in the new year.
So there you have it, the story of the Christmas sewing machine. Guess I've been a good girl this year!