What if I can't do this? Yes, I'm going to get dirty, but I don't care. I have at least 2 pairs of nitrile gloves if I really need them, but all I should need is one. If I get that far. It was hard enough having to give up the uniform. Giving up the career. The bullshit. Yes, I miss the bullshit. "But, you're a girl!" "Yeah, and?" I knew what I was doing. In most cases, more than my male counterparts. I also had to stay on my toes. I mean, I did have tools thrown at my face, my fair share of fist fights (not started by me, just ended by me), shattered windshields, ruined lunches, destroyed clothes, and there was that one serious attempt on my life (not kidding--antifreeze in coffee would have been fatal if I wasn't paying attention). But there were the days I could still fix my car. At least when it was something serious enough that I couldn't rig it with duct tape, coat hangers, gorilla glue, or other creative means. The jobs did take a bit longer than they used to, but they got done. And it was at least something. Hell, I was only 5 years old when I helped rebuild my first car. And I never looked back. Until yesterday.
My personal record is 3 minutes. Driver's side? 5 minutes. That's how long it takes to change a headlight in my car. The driver's side takes a bit longer because I have to move the air filter box and pull off the battery cover. The headlight has to be unlocked and a lever has to be pushed down (but not too hard, because if it breaks, the headlight won't lock back in place) so that the entire headlight comes out.. then I have to take the back cover off the light, unclip the bulb (which requires pliers), unplug the bulb, put the new one in (did I mention having to put gloves on for this part? You can't touch the bulbs at all, because the oils on your skin can cause the bulbs will explode.. fun, huh?), and put everything back together. It's a bit tedious, but considering I find myself having to replace them every summer, I have it down to a science. Until yesterday. Until this disease took even that away from me. My fingers and hands are still very swollen and stiff. They're also weak and shaky, not to mention painful. I didn't know if I could even change the bulb this time. I knew my 5 minute record was out the window. I stopped timing myself after an hour. But I was doing it. And I finally did it. My hands swelled so bad, the gloves became a second skin. Every joint and muscle screamed at me, but I actually did it. I took my time putting my tools away, proud of myself that at least yesterday I had one part of my "old life" I still had--at least then. I don't know if I could change a flat tire, but hey, I could still change a headlight, right?
Then I went to close the door and lock my car up. And the door wouldn't close. The handle wasn't stuck, it was unlocked, but the latch was stuck and wouldn't catch. Of course... My car has been doing nothing but giving me trouble for the past 2 weeks--I see my mechanic for work I can't do on my own, bring it in for a transmission problem, only to get there and it works fine. Every time. And of course I couldn't find the WD-40.. or anything like it (well, I could, but nothing had a cap on it.) The only thing I could find was some industrial strength metal lube spray that has more warnings on it than my college chemistry lab. Use in open areas, use masks, gloves, can cause CNS damage, brain damage, liver damage... you name it, it can cause it. But hey, it should free up my door, right? It worked. I think. The latch did free up and the door closed. I don't feel any different. And hopefully the door will open and close right, but I have no clue what the stuff is supposed to be used on (it was in my dad's work truck and he works on industrial equipment), but I do have a small bungee cord in my car as a backup plan just in case I may have melted everything that's not metal in the door (which, considering the 5,000 warnings on the can, is entirely possible) and the door doesn't want to close again. Or, well, open for that matter. But I was just in entirely too much pain, too tired, and by that point, it was either put my foot through the door out of anger and pay for body work I can't afford plus the cost to fix the stupid door, or risk melting the door and sealing it shut semi-permanently. So, I fell back on what I knew and hoped for the best. I guess I'll find out tomorrow. Worst case? There'll be a size 9 foot print in the door...
No comments:
Post a Comment