May 19, 2009
The door in my kitchen quit working about a week ago. You could turn the handle as hard as you could and it wouldn't do anything. It sucked. Especially since I'm reordering the yard to make that the front door.:) When I went to Cart's the other day I decided that I should get a new knob and install it.
Sounds easy. Pretty straightforward. So why was sitting in my kitchen 4 hours later afraid to begin? I had the new package sitting on the sink by the door. The door was open. Screwdriver and drill on hand. Just waiting for me to start.
And I couldn't. I spent at least 15 minutes looking first at the door, then the package...and back again. Finally I took a deep breath, picked up the drill and added the phillips attachment....and began.
The drill couldn't reach the screw. Okay, no problem....We'll go the old fashioned way. So I grab the screwdriver.
Screwdriver is too big.
No biggie...find a smaller screwdriver. So I searched and searched......and searched and searched. Finally I come up with these little tiny flat heads that fit. But I can't get a grip on them to unscrew the screws. As I'm pushing and attempting to turn this marvel of modern engineering I slip and jam the screwdriver into my hand about a half inch.
This is when I learn why every man I know can scream obscenities for at least 10 minutes without repeating themselves. It used to be something that I admired greatly. I'm learning though that it's only because they've screwed up a lot in their lives but had to keep moving forward.
Keep Moving Forward. That's the phrase from the kids movie Meet the Robinsons. It's awesome. It seems that I'm finally getting that. I've had the suck it up and drive on down for most of my life. But there's a difference between driving on and moving forward. Doesn't sound like much of one, but there is.
I think I've been trudgeing, when what I should be doing is skipping.:)
Okay, so after I finish my little fit.....I mean....my masculine display of vocabulary....I tackle the door with vengence on my mind. This is when I learn that my husband may actually know what he's doing when he takes a hammer to something that isn't working.:)
So I get the doorknob in, a really really really long time later. And I feel so freaking proud of myself that it's pitiful. I recognize how pitiful it is at the same time I'm enjoying the feeling of walking around my kitchen pounding my chest and saying, "That's right b****.....fixed ya didn't I! Ha! Broken door, my a**! Nope, you're a fully functioning entrance into my do ma cile now."
(Yeah, apparently I do talk like that when a door takes my blood but I win.)
I've experienced this feeling a number of different times since I moved out to the farm. It's really interesting to me to observe myself as I go through these different little milestones and notice the ways that it changes me. I've spent my entire life so protected that there is much I haven't done.
Everyone worries about me....constantly....and about things I wouldn't even think that someone could worry over with a grown woman. And I love the way that feels. I like that I have so many wonderful people who want to take care of me and shelter me from so many things. It's awesome. I can't wait until I have my husband home to shelter me again. I love it when people come and help, or stop by and help. I'm woman enough to be able to accept it.
But it's cool to know that there are a lot of things that I CAN manage to do, even if I don't want to or think I can't. I miss being spoiled, but I'm not a hot house flower that wilts the moment the environment changes. Sweet. I like that.
So now I've got a few more things that can be added to my adventure resume.
I am independent.
I am capable.
I am still scared of the dark, but I have a big dog.
And a door knob is no match for that.;)