More WTFs For All Parties Involved

So, as per Dr. Westborough's suggestion I'm making my own bedding. Because my bed (I can't call it a berth it sounds to weird, like I'm a ship) is most certainly not a standard bedding size I'm having to make it myself by sewing together quilts and such. I figured I would just hand sew it since trying to use my sewing machine while this giant might prove dangerous for it. I'd hate to accidentally break it since it is expensive to get fixed. So I went out this morning and got a handful of pretty quilts, a roll of upholstry thread and the largest needle available and spent most of the day sitting in the base sewing the quilts together.

And everytime someone passed me by they backtracked and had to freaking ask me what I was doing. Okay, sure, it probably is a bit odd for a giant robot to be quilting. I get that. But the amount of confusion. If I'd have been welding something they'd have probably just gone on their merry little ways.

And the whole time all I could think of was when I clothing repair and hand embroidery in college to help pay the bills. Every time I had a project that had hand sewing I would pack it up and head down to one of the beaches near San Clemente and just sit in my car sewing or embroidering until it was too dark to continue. As I'm learning it is these little things from before the incident that are the things I miss most. I physically could go down to that beach, that state beach who's name I don't know, and sit in the parking lot and sew but I doubt it would end well. I know how imperative it is to keep the existence of Cybertronians a secret. And sewing is something I can't do in car form.

Again Michaela was the one to kind of save the day. She was the only one to really not bat an eye once I told her what I was doing. I didn't really get to know Michaela when I was human, figured she was just a typical teenage girl. Not the type of person I would want to hang out with. I guess now that she is one of the few humans I can talk to, without withholding information unless I wish to, that my hand was forced into getting to know her. I'm either lucky that she's a person I can get along with and is okay keeping me company or I'm grasping at the remaining connections to humanity that I have. I think I'll say it is the first option.

I like the idea I've got more than a tenious grasp on sanity.