One hundred and sixty-nine three-inch squares. That is what Michelle had to sew together to create the patchwork pillow that was to be auctioned for charity.
Sitting at one end of her living-room sofa she had already successfully connected ten of the pieces of fabric and was pulling a length of thread from its spool.
At the other end of the sofa sat one James Ellison, chips and salsa in his lap, "Austin Powers, The Spy Who Shagged Me" in the VCR.
Not exactly anyone's dream date. (It's not a date.)
Michelle snipped the thread and began a futile attempt at putting the cut end through the tiny opening of the needle. She had been successful so far that evening but this time the thread would just not cooperate. She took the scissors to the frayed end and tried yet again.
She sighed as she glanced to the other end of her couch where Jim was shoving tortilla chips into his mouth and snickering at something or other in the movie. Time to test that vision, Jimmer. "Jim?"
He turned his attention to find her holding out a needle and thread to him.
"Here, make yourself useful."
THE END