Miss Independence and the fridge

Those of you who know me know that I am extremely independent. Something which has gotten me into trouble many times. And certainly life would have been much easier if I had allowed myself to be more dependent…I probably would have been married several times by now. But it just doesn’t occur to me to ask for help, and depend on others. Which is why I am limping with a bruised foot.

The refrigerator went out. After have a ton of fresh fruit vegetables and other groceries delivered for the holiday weekend. There was going to be cooking and grilling and feasting. But only if I could get a refrigerator bought and delivered that day. Yes, I could buy and get a refrigerator in the house myself. Why not? Oh, so many reasons….

Finally found one, on sale that I could pick up that same day as it was in stock. New, shiny, black stainless steel. It was beautiful. And tall. And heavy. What was I thinking? The panic of losing that much food must have put me into temporary insanity.

I rented a truck to pick up the fridge and had the guys from the store load it up, figuring I could unload it once home. The thing could only make about 3 of me (again, what was I thinking?). Determined to get it out of the truck, I huffed and puffed, pushed, pulled, and finally gave up after about 45 minutes. It was much to expensive to take any chances of it falling off, or over. When did refrigerators get into the thousands of dollars? I remember w. hen they were almost as affordable as iPhones. I admitted temporary defeat and asked one of the neighbors to help. He did and it was off the truck and in mu garage in about 30 seconds. He asked me why I didn’t just have it delivered like any normal person. (Because it wouldn’t be delivered for another 6 days and all the food would be bad so I naturally decided to do it myself).

A few hours later, after I finished work, I came back to get it into the house. After about 30 minutes of figuring out how to make the laws of physics work in my favor, a friend suggested asking the neighbor who had a dolly for help. No, I could do it myself, once I figured out how. (what was I thinking?).

After another 30 minutes of slowly scooching the fridge little by little, I finally gave it one last scooch…and it happened in slow motion. I could tell the moment it came off of the base of the box. And I grabbed the top of it, my feet coming off of the ground as I desperately tried to stop the inevitable motion that had started. I watched powerless as it came down, slowly at first, then picking up speed as it fell. As my feet touched the ground, and I tried in vain to throw my weight to stop the fall, it came down and landed. On my foot.

“Well, that’s going to hurt in about an hour,” I thought to myself as I struggled to free my foot. Great. I just broke my new fridge and mu old foot in one loud commotion. After getting my foot free, I chastised myself for not asking for help sooner and messaged the neighbor with the dolly. Sure, he would be over on 3 minutes.

Thirty minutes later, he had the refrigerator hooked up, installed and was taking the old one out to the curb for me. I thanked him profusely, grateful to have a young healthy neighbor who was nice enough to help an independent woman reluctant to admit she needed the help. And I gave him some very nice scotch to share with his wife as a thank you.

Life is short. As for help before you topple over the new appliance and have to hobble away in defeat (all puns intended). Trust me, it’s worth it. And never let a klutz try to install anything larger than themselves. It gets dangerous and painful when they get squashed.

Note: The fridge is working fine and is not broken. My foot is fine as well. However, the fridge does have a nice dent where my foot was…and I thought my head was hard.

Uncommon Communion

We all have those moments in life where we think that would be funny if they happened on a sitcom. But they are actually happening to you, in your life, and one day they will be funny…

I had started the day with quiet meditation and content contemplation. It was a special day and I wanted to savor it, appreciate it and enjoy the beautiful wonder of it. I had been studying and preparing for it for several months and it was here. My Confirmation and First Communion into the Catholic Church.

After getting my hair done (because I am a bit vain and I wanted to make sure I looked good in any pictures). However, it’s monsoon season here in Texas, so I should have known. But the rest of the events could not have been predicted.

I was running a few minutes late, as usual, when I noticed the RPMs going up but the speed going down. This isn’t good, especially in a manual. Shifting gears didn’t help either, and actually made it worse. I had already let the man know it might be the transmission and I was hoping to be able to make it to the church where he and several others were waiting. And then, it happened. The clutch. Went. Out.

No problem. I called the man and let him know the situation – I’ll just get a tow truck and an Uber. I would be there a little later than I thought, but still in time. The two and Uber would be there within 5 minutes of each other. Twenty minutes later, neither had shown up. The Uber was late and the tow was lost, and it was pouring down rain the likes I had not seen since the last hurricane. And my neighbor called asking if that was me on the side of the road – did I need a ride. No, I told her, because soon the Uber would be there.

And when the Uber arrived and found out that I had to wait for the tow, he promptly told me that he could not wait and kicked me out of the car – in the pouring monsoon rain. And the tow was still lost. I called the wonderful neighbor that yes, I did need a ride. She said she would be right there – except that traffic was backed up because of a huge accident and she was trying to get to me but she couldn’t. But she was trying and would be there as soon as she could.

By this time I was crying. texting my man to please tell the priest what was happening. How was I going to make it? And what are the chances – the clutch breaks, the tow truck is lost, the Uber can’t wait, the friend and neighbor is trying to get me but is tuck in traffic, AND I am soaking wet. My hair dripping with rain water, make up washed and cried off, the nice outfit wrinkled and soaked. A drowned rat looked better. And my sweet wonderful man reassuring me that there was time, that the priest would make it work no matter how late I was.

And my man was right. Somehow it all worked out. The tow truck arrived to pick up the car. My friend got there and picked me up. And there was someone to greet me and walk me into the service when we arrived. It worked out. I was confirmed and had communion. With my man by my side. And my friend there with me. And my friends in the church, witnessing this event in my life.

Because that is the thing about life, you can’t do it alone. No matter how independent you are, you are still not an island. And you are blessed to have those in your life who will be there for you. look after you, reassure you, and help you.

There was, unfortunately, no help for my hair though. That was a mess on steroids.