I walked in the pouring rain (why? why is it always in the pouring rain?) yesterday to the chain fabric store (as opposed to the non-chain one I visited last week). To my chagrin and personal shame, it was a French-only store. I feel, and not for any reason other than self-criticism, like a second-class citizen because I don't speak French. Anyway! So, I went to this store, browsed for an hour, and found a pattern for a beautiful wrap top that I immediately wanted to make. I chose possibly the most difficult fabric in the entire universe to work with: A gorgeously draping polyester knit. I have very limited experience working with knits, but I like a challenge.
At the checkout, I tried my Visa. No dice - it's always a gamble with an international card. I was buying four things - my fabric, the pattern, three ballpoint needles (to facilitate the sewing of the knit, I hoped) and a year's membership to the store's club (for $15 CAD). Despite the heavy discounts I received via the membership (I got both the pattern and the fabric half-off and spent $16 on both combined), I didn't have enough cash, so I had to put down the needles. So, I ended up causing a ruckus and miming things to the cashier, who spoke very basic English. I don't get embarrassed very easily, but the combination of being an inept communicator (which in my twisted mind questions my intellect) and the payment problems pretty much had me on the edge.
Dejected, I wandered through the rain, splashing through puddles, wending my way among the stylish and cute, a short blonde girl who had taken a self-generated blow to her confidence WHO ALSO LACKED BALLPOINT NEEDLES! Could it be any worse?
This morning I am going to go get a Canadian bank account! Gaaah.
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