When I was little, I had trouble with irregular words.
I thought someone who sewed was a sewer.
“It’s a seamstress,” said the teacher. “Sewer looks like sewer.”
Ever since then, I can’t get the image of a sewing machine under each sewer cover out of my head.
One day, I took an iron rod to a sewer cover, pried it open, and looked inside.
Nobody sewing down there. Just a bunch of rats and the worst smell I had ever smelled.
So, I tried to teach the rats to sew.
Instead of sewing needles, I get rabies needles.
Ouch.