"When you're in your 20s, you begin to lose brain cells a few at a time. Your body also starts to make less of the chemicals your brain cells need to work. The older you are, the more these changes can affect your memory." So say the good people at FamilyDoctor.Org
That gave me brief consolation. Until I realized just how many years that has been happening.
I was in my mid 20s when I bought my sewing machine. It's body shows the sign of a long life, it's getting a bit frayed around the edges like I am. And, like me, it has days when it just doesn't want to work. Unfortunately yesterday we weren't synchronised. I wanted to work, it didn't.
Last weekend when we worked together my attention was drawn to the sad state of its innards. A case of rubbish in, rubbish out? Hmm. I suspected that sewing machine oil I've been using wasn't up to the usual standard. And I oil it before and after every use. Religiously. Never miss.
So yesterday, when it just didn't want to do anything, I decided to give it my version of a service. I've done this about twice a year for the 40 plus years we have been together and the initial stages went well. Take it apart, soak all it's bits in methylated spirits, poke around inside with cotton buds soaked in the same stuff, remove all the gunk, then put it all back together again and give it a good oiling with quality sewing machine oil.
Except.... when it came to the putting back together again part, I couldn't remember how to do it! I just couldn't get that bobbin case (I think that is what it's called) back into place. I know there is a knack to it but my fingers seemed clumsy, and the more I tried, the more frustrated I became. I stubbornly spent hours hunched over it's innards, refused to give up until darkness and my hunger got the better of me and I packed it in for the day.
I don't want to be over dramatic but I was seriously shaken about all this. This morning I procrastinated about what to do today and avoided the room housing that dratted machine.
Then a bit of Pauline logic and decision making saved me. Go mow the lawn, the exercise will do me good, and then have one more go at the machine. I would have done something constructive with my day and if I couldn't fix my machine, I'd take it to a service man. After all it has only had one expert service in all its years and surely deserves another.
I honestly don't know if I was more amused or more annoyed when, tired from mowing the grass, semi-refresed from a shower, I sat at the machine and flipped that casing into place, first time.
Guess that just proves the argument that exercise is good for the brain cells. All is not yet lost!
