I set to work on the detergent soaked, semi-straightened material, determined to do the best seamstress job in the world. These curtains are going to be nothing short of glorious. I’m armed with oldies on the radio and hair pulled back, I’m ready for action. I feel like I’ve come a pretty long way at this point. However, I do like how all the pearls of wisdom from everyone and their mom come out during this time, every single one of which I could have put to great use before the demise-of-the-ugly-sandbag/war-fabric:
Pearl 1: Oh no, look at those detergent spots! You shouldn’t have used powder. Use liquid next time.
Pearl 2: It only takes a couple minutes for the iron to warm up. You thought it would take 20? Maybe an iron from the 50s would take that long. Wow
Pearl 3: Yeah, when the iron feels like its not working anymore its because after an hour it turns off automatically. Most people don’t iron for 3 hours straight. Only you apparently.
Pearl 4: Try a water bottle instead of the water squirter thing. That way you don’t have to keep filling it up. And that way you don’t have to spill a gallon from the pitcher every time the chamber’s empty.
Pearl 5: Why don’t you just have your mom help you? I heard she was amazing at these things.
AWESOME! GOOD TO KNOW! I wish I could chalk it up to inexperience, having not being around for even a quarter of a century, but I’ve got no excuse when a 13 year old is giggling at my Kool Aid pitcher device for refilling the water chamber. Even SHE knows I’m a lost cause. But guess what… I may be a lost cause but my curtains sure aren’t going to be!
The time comes for the famous iron-on hem. How hard can this be? Just read the directions and onward towards curtain triumph. So after reading, you can imagine my disappointment when I am thoroughly confused. Its so tempting to grab the cell and call Mom. “CAN YOU MAKE ME CURTAINS PLEEEEAAASSSEEE?” I resist the call. I continue.
“Iron a crease where the fold of the hem will be”… check. Only takes me 35 minutes. I’m thinking I have a lot of respect for those women in the curtain sweat shops on the other side of the world. “Place iron-on hem rough side down. Slowly run iron along hem, giving time for hem to bond.”… ok whoa, hold up. Both sides are pretty rough, man. Why would it matter anyway? Aren’t both sides going to touch fabric? Ok - THAT direction gets tossed out the (curtain-less) window. So I dutifully follow the next direction. I run the hot iron along the bare-faced iron-on hem… which immediately turns to gunk on the iron and disappears from the fabric. HUH? How is this supposed to bond? I try to push the fabric back together to maybe stick from the gunk… does not stick. Maybe I ran it TOO slow. Here goes another try. I barely touch it with the iron. Vanishes immediately! What the hell! This isn’t iron-hem, this is an automatic crap-on-your-roommates-iron maker! WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?!
Oh.
You’re supposed to fold the fabric back over… with the iron-hem stuff INSIDE of it. And THEN run the iron along the OUTSIDE of the folded part. THATS what the crease was for. And THATS how it bonds. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I promise I’m not the biggest idiot to walk the face of the Earth. I mean at least thats what I spent the next 20 minutes convincing myself after this condescending bout with iron-on hem.
The rest of it bonds beautifully. The whole thing looks awesome except of course for the first 6 inches that won’t stick to save a life. Where the gunk left its evil smirk. Whatever - I leave it as is. I don’t care if one corner of my ghetto curtains flap up. I’ve got to have some character built into these curtains. And there it is, those first 6 inches, gloriously unhinged. Just like me!
