A Mystery at the Fabric Store

Something strange is going on at our Joann Fabrics. Their pre-pandemic operating hours were 9 am to 9 pm every day. About six months ago, they pushed back their daily opening time to 10 am. A few weeks ago, they pushed it back to 11 am. This week, I noticed a sign on the door indicating that “due to unforeseen circumstances,” they would be closing at 4 pm every day this week.

I know they have been having trouble finding employees. This seems a bit drastic, though, and makes me wonder what exactly is going on. I said to the husband that I did—for about 10 nanoseconds—consider asking Deb, the manager, for a green apron and telling her I would pitch in and help. They wouldn’t even have to train me.

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A few weeks ago, the husband pulled up a YouTube video on scissors. It was on a channel that he subscribes to. The guy devises all sorts of elaborate tests to compare brands of tools and then tortures the tools to see which brand performs best.

I knew at the outset that the Kai scissors would probably come out on top—they are the preferred brand of many sewists—and they did, but the Heritage brand came in a close second. They are made in the USA. The husband ordered himself a pair for his shop and they came yesterday. These are a hefty pair of shears (my Fiskars kitchen scissors are for comparison).

He said to me, “I bet these would cut Formica,” which is kind of a joke (not really) because 30 years ago, when renovating our first house in Pennsylvania, he used my good Fiskars to cut a piece of Formica. I just about had a stroke. He also killed several of my hair dryers using them as heat guns. Now he has his own tools.

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Our local Army-Navy store has ice cleats for 20% off this week, so I stopped in yesterday and bought a pair for my muck boots.

The Yaktrax don’t fit my mucks, although I really only wear my mucks to go back and forth to the chicken coop. (My daily winter boots are a riding boot style with a lug sole.) There is a slight slope down to the door of the coop, however, and it gets a bit treacherous when it’s icy. I’ve needed some cleats for my mucks, and when I saw the ones the husband had for his, I decided to get some for myself.

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I think that if Susan and I end up going to Spokane in a few weeks, I am going to call Kevin and ask him if they can run the super-duper diagnostics on The Diva and figure out why my dash is lit up like a Christmas tree. The check engine light won’t go off, I am still getting the drivetrain malfunction message, and now a brake sensor is telling me I need new brake pads despite the fact that the husband looked at all four wheels and determined there is plenty of brake pad left. (He was the one who replaced them last time, so he knows how long they’ve been on there.) We’re also still waiting on that starter solenoid. I realize that I am an unusual customer because I don’t replace my BMW every two years like most people who drive them, although Kevin has told me repeatedly not to get rid of it because they aren’t making diesels anymore. Part of me wishes these cars weren’t so heavily computerized, because the technology fails long before the mechanical parts do.

The car runs fine, and I plan to drive it until I can’t anymore. I don’t want to spend the money on a new-to-me vehicle right now.