Every sewist knows this moment.
You’re feeling smug — the seam is nearly perfect, just a tiny wobble to fix. Out comes the seam ripper, your trusty sidekick, gleaming like a sword in the lamplight.
You line up the blade. You take a breath.
And then… betrayal.
With one overconfident flick, your seam ripper doesn’t just undo the stitches – it performs open-heart surgery on the fabric. That neat little repair job? Now a gaping wound in your masterpiece. You stare at it, needle trembling in your hand, wondering how your once-beloved tool could do this to you.
But of course, you forgive it. You always forgive it.
Because five minutes later you’ll need it again, whispering, “just one tiny correction…”
Some relationships are toxic.
Ours just happen to come with replacement blades.
🧵✨
Poppy x
