I consider myself a resourceful person. A doer. Someone who can “tote the freight” as my Daddy would have said. However, my strength, confidence, cleverness and energy have been stretched to their limits in the wake of my divorce.
Throughout, I have learned humility. I have learned to ask others for help. Most of all, I have learned that inevitably things will be OK.
Sometimes I am profoundly grateful.
One of my neighbors has fixed my kitchen sink three times. Including on Thanksgiving Day. He also gave me precise instructions on what to do when the sewer overflowed in my driveway (calm down; call this municipal department; tell them to come NOW).
Another neighbor searched for lost files on my computer while I wrung my hands and contemplated my malpractice insurance. His equally technologically-savvy wife helped my daughter set up her science fair experiment, which won a blue ribbon.
Sometimes I am amused.
My ex-husband always told me that it was impossible to find a Home Depot employee when you needed to ask a question. He clearly never went to Home Depot in a mini skirt .. and boots .. and fishnet stockings. No less than four employees followed me through the store, found the things I needed and carried them to check-out. I think Home Depot has amazing customer service.
Sometimes I want to spit and say impolite words.
When I take my car to a mechanic, I feel like I have the phrase “I believe anything and want to give you large sums of money” tattooed on my forehead.
Recently, however, I developed a special affinity for my exterminator. When I heard scurrying, scratching sounds in the attic right before Christmas I hoped it was Santa scoping out logistics. More realistically, I knew it was a rat – or maybe a whole mischief of rats.
Enter Rudy the Rat Guy. Don’t get me wrong, Rudy was affable and he did his job. To my knowledge, my house is now rat-free. Where Rudy and I failed to be like-minded was when he treated me like an unintelligent ten-year-old. Two graduate degrees? Irrelevant. Rudy the Rat Guy cared about three things: (1) I was female; (2) I sure as hell wasn’t going to climb into the attic myself; and (3) as such, I needed him.
I asked Rudy for his business card. I am saving it to pin on a voodoo doll.
Always, I grow.
I am an expert on stacking kits for Whirlpool washers/dryers. I know that the gas is turned OFF when the knob is turned perpendicular to the floor. Even if I don’t know which wrench to use, I know you can get a lot accomplished with pliers.
At first, I felt angry about these experiences; they weren’t in my life plan. But, then I realized that these lessons allow me to cultivate wisdom and make me more human. Most important, I am learning these lessons in the plain view of my daughter, who will be stronger and more whole and have her own ideas about how to deal with Rudy.