I made it.
You can clap, I am impressed with myself too.
I didn't think I had it in me, but it seems that I CAN SEW. Or at the very least, I can sew squares, and I feel good about that.
About a year ago, my mother in law bought me a sewing machine.
The sewing machine, packed tightly inside the box it came in, lived on the table in the porch, and it taunted me, day in and day out, as I was forced to look at it every single time I went in or out the front door. And not only did it taunt me, it scared me because as much as I'd like to know how to sew (and knit, play guitar, use power tools, and jog), I don't.
Well, seventeen-hundred YouTube videos later, I had the bobbin doing whatever it is the bobbin does and the needle all threaded. I followed along, step by step, with a 30-minute video that was literally made for seven-year-olds who want to learn to sew - and only three hours later, a pillowcase emerged from all the fabric scraps and ripped out stitches.
A PILLOWCASE! A CASE FOR A PILLOW! That I made!
A because it is Mother's Day, I purchased a pillow*, stuffed it into the pillowcase and wrapped it up for my mother-in-law, but not before I texted a picture of it out to practically everyone in my phone's contacts, because I MADE A PILLOWCASE.
*Next time, if you do nothing else that I ever ask of you, please PURCHASE THE PILLOW FIRST. That way, when you attempt the sewing of the pillowcase, you can match the pillow's dimensions, as opposed to stuffing a questionably sized pillow into a small pillowcase. Thank you.