Why I Now Unplug My Sewing Machine {The True, Terribly Sad Tale of Mrs.Bernina's Demise}

This is a very scary tale, so please clear the room of all children of tender age before reading this post.  They can be easily scarred.

A few weeks ago I took a break from sewing and went to the kitchen, which is not an uncommon occurrence, unfortunately.  I heard a noise from down the hallway, which I thought was the printer beginning to print.  Being that I had not printed anything, and no one else was around to be printing anything, I went to check it out.  

The printer was silent.  

The noise continued.  

On down the hallway I went in search of this odd sound, heading toward my bedroom, a.k.a., my sewing room.  As I round the corner into the room, I gasp with despair as Mrs.Bernina is puffing out smoke and squealing at the top of her lungs!!  GASP!!  WHAT!?!  

I quickly unplug her, and she collapses with relief.  

I collapse with grief.  

My faithful friend has suffered, and it might be a fatal wound.  Turning the handwheel is impossible; it's stuck tight.  The foot pedal is very warm to the touch.  

I carry her to the operating table in the dining room, unsure of what to do to help her out.  Removing the huge tangle of threads in the bobbin case relieves the tension on the handwheel, and it turns again, albeit with a bit of sticking, as though it's sore.  

The doctor is called and does a thorough examination which includes surgically opening the foot pedal.  The doctor determines it must be the foot pedal since one spring is found sprung in it, and there is evidence of a fever.  Consulting physician Google also verifies that pedals of this type sometimes go haywire and take off sewing randomly even without the provocation of a foot.  I order a new pedal from the surgical supplyhouse, eBay.

The replacement pedal arrives, and I surgically install it without the doctor's assistance.  I lovingly remove Mrs.Bernina from the surgical table and carry her back to her honored place on the sewing table.  I think she giggles at this point, so happy to be back, she is.  I rejoice as Mrs.Bernina begins sewing in her sweet, dependable way.  

And then she dies.  

Yes, she dies.  Right there on the sewing table.   

Not even a sputter or gasp for breath.

And she does not appear to be resurrectable.  

It's true.

It's sad.

But I did learn something.

NEVER leave a sewing machine plugged in when not in use.  

If this had happened when I was not home, our home most likely would have caught fire, beginning with my fabric stash, my sewing tables, my passion, my entire business!  

Okay, the horrific details are past, and the children of tender age can come back into the room.

I am not sure this incident was entirely preventable, however, because I was out of the room for mere minutes when I heard the noise, and by then the damage had already been done.  My backup machine, a Brother cs6000i, is now my main machine and is plugged into a power strip.  I know I will not unplug the machine (or turn off the power strip) each time I leave the room, because I am almost always coming right back, but you can bet I will turn the power strip off when I plan to leave the house or go to bed.  The power strip has a light on it, indicating the power is on, which is super helpful in a dark room at the end of the day.  

I am in the market to replace one of my sweetest friends, Mrs.Bernina.  Mrs.Brother, as I suppose I should call my current machine, has been a lovely addition to my sewing room over the last few months with her amazing walking foot that has opened wide modern quilting for me.  But she simply does not sew fast enough.  I.sew.fast.  I sew to earn money, so I.sew.fast.  I need a faster machine.

It's a bittersweet time.

If you are grieving the loss of a human loved one, please do not think I am belittling your experience; this is merely an anecdotal story of my sewing machine going kaput and needing to be replaced.

ETA:  A reader pointed out that the original foot that came with the Bernina 830s in the 1970s had been recalled.  Mrs.Bernina's foot pedal had been replaced with an appropriate foot that had the temperature safety override on it, so it likely, hopefully, should have turned off if it had reached 100 degrees Celsius which is 212 degrees Fahrenheit which is the boiling point of water.  That's hot.  I don't know if it would have caught fire or not.  The fire hazard isn't just the foot pedal combusting; it's also the friction of the belts sliding over the gears inside the machine, and it was already smoking.

Unplug your machines!

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