Someone's Been Eating My Porridge

Ok. I know someone's been eating my porridge. Not too hot, not too cold...just right.

I'm trying to tune up and oil my sewing machine, which has been mostly neglected for the past four or five years. I would go so far as to say it is desperate (!!!) for some attention. It actually attempts to eat fabric at this point, as a frantic cry for lubrication and de-fuzzing.

After successful cleaning (who knew dust bunnies multiplied inside a sewing machine?), and several unscrewing and replacing of screws complete, I reached an impasse. One screw was particularly in love with it's location and refused to come out. (I was the last one to do this service, so I must have been stronger back then.)

Screwdriver number 1 - broke. Twisting in it's shank, doing squat.
Screwdriver number 2 - too short.
Screwdriver number 3 - even shorter.
Screwdriver number 4 - a close twin to the short ones.

I had to resort to my massively disorganized and PERSONAL tool box. I said personal, as in 'it is mine, my territory, my stuff...'

What is there? ONE even shorter screwdriver! I know I am short, and shrinking, according to a recent visit to my doctor, but I do not need ONLY a short (two inches???) screwdriver.

Hummph. I know who took it. Not Goldilocks. It was one of the two big bears. The furry taker of tools to work on miscellaneous vehicles that reside outside. And then I am sure the screwdrivers I need stayed in their new home refusing to come back home. All grown up and out on their own.

I'm blaming the bears.

After the porridge is recovered (or purchased anew) I will lock up the cook pot.

Now. How to finish the sewing machine before dinner?