I work in a sweat shop

seriously. The conditions are awful. Hot, stuffy. Noisy. All I have to sit on is an old dining room chair. And the boss is a REAL bitch.

This is an old picture because now I have that sweet little Singer

Awhile back I appropriated a corner of the kids' "playroom" for my sewing table. (I use playroom in quotes here because while there were several truckloads of toys in said playroom, my children very rarely played in there) It was just too much to haul all my sewing stuff out every night once the kids were in bed and set it all up on the dining room table only to sew for an hour or sew and clean it all up. Who wants to do that?
So I decided that since the kids weren't using the space, I would. The "playroom" is actually a 3 seasons porch, which in the wonderful of winter that I live in actually is more accurately described as a 2 seasons porch--cold and hot (I'm starting to see why not much playing was being done). Right now I guess we're in hot since I just finished hemming some drapes for a customer (glamorous, no?) and my butt is sweaty. Sexy...
I've got to talk to my superior about the working conditions, but she just doesn't seem to be listening.

Um...get a fan.