Monday, December 5, 2011

I need a rider.

Dear Home and Auto Owners Insurance Company:

Yesterday my husband freaking lost his mind pointed out that I have a crazy bat-sh*t amount several sewing machines in my basement.


I went over and stood in front of his bigger than any of my machines plasma flat screen TV and said “Four. I have four sewing machines. Each serving a different purpose. And you should be happy I added another one


because now you don’t have to lug the 40+ pound work horse upstairs anymore”.


He was somewhat pleased about that, but wondered what the others are for.

I told him the little one is for being here when I need it and the 4th is actually a Serger.


Although he was a little distracted by the football game so the conversation actually went something like this:

Dave-Surgeon? Like I don’t work at Mayo and we can get one of those covered by insurance?

Me-Not surgeon, SERGER. Like a cutting/finishing machine.

Dave-Cutting fish? I won’t eat a sturgeon and you can’t make me.

After that, it deteriorated to juvenile name calling and various one-up-manships that aren’t important to this communication.

What is important is that the machines are worth a chunk of change, and, as my husband said quietly through gritted teeth suggested I might need to tell you, sweet insurance company that fixed my new car when I hit the deer and rebuilt half my house when it burned down, I have some expensive equipment that I can’t live without.  I need to know that you will happily (meaning you won’t give me any double talk and crap) replace said equipment without complaint, if I tell you honestly that I have it and it should, heaven forbid, be mortally injured by an act of God.

Thank you so much for your time, and please don’t raise my rates just because you think I’m crazy and won’t notice. Because I will, and so will my husband.


Sewing Machine Lady

PS. If you are worried about me affording all this high end equipment, never fear. I work for the person who sold it to me. And to make ends meet, she has let me and a few others put some extra time in her sweatshop store. And next time, she said she’d even turn the heat on.



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