Breakfast has a way of setting the tone of your whole day. As I have recently taken to planning all our meals around emptying the pantry, I decided on pumpkin pancakes, and a side of bacon. After defrosting the bacon and heating my oven up to 450, we were ready to get cooking. I believe cast iron is the key to a perfect breakfast and so I have an assortment of pans to choose from. Today called for my pancake pan and grill pan, so I got them up to temperature while grinding some coffee. With the exception of a little overcooking on one of my pancakes, I think we came out pretty well. My wife was happy, my daughter was happy, we were all full and we had 2 less boxes to worry about packing before we move at the end of the month. George Clooney was jamming Man of Constant Sorrow on TV and all was well with the universe. And here's where my problem came in.
You know that squealing I mentioned, coming from my lawn mower the other day? Turns out its caused by a loose or slipping belt on the drive pulley. Now that I was full of breakfast calories, it was time to start earning lunch by way of projects and chores. My plan was to service the lawnmower and put in an hour worth of packing, then we'd run our weekly errands. Piece of cake, I thought. Armed as I was with the knowledge from 2 YouTube videos, an exploded 3D diagram, and the Craftsman instruction manual, no way was this going to take me more than an hour. Not to mention progress pictures for a solid start to the Man vs. House 2014 season.
That hour came and went, and what I walked away with was a pulled shoulder muscle, throbbing fingers, and a half a dozen ways how not to remove a rear wheel drive pulley belt cover. I was bested, defeated, and shamed by a 1/16" thick molded piece of plastic no bigger than a phone book. The instructions had been straightforward:
1) Remove securing bolts
2) Slide debris cover off
3) Adjust, tighten, or replace belt as needed
4) Put everything back the way you found it.
Remember how I said that one of the skills I am thankful for is being able to build/fix things? Well I never said I was any good at it. Now I know what you're going to say "Chase, have you ever done anything like this before? No need to be hard on yourself if you had no experience." That's what instructions are for. I don't know everything, and don't pretend to. I rely heavily on Google and booklets full of expert advice to get me through projects daily. Sure, I'll agree that experience makes the all the difference, but any slack jawed, simpering primate can follow 4 clear instructions.
Sadly for me, that did not hold true this day. I changed my stance, grip, and used several combinations of tools, but to no avail. It's not like I'm disarming a tactical warhead here. There is 1 bolt and 3 plastic clips that held my objective in place, and I had negotiated them all for 60 minutes solid. Anger started to take the wheel, my eyes flashed green and I started making up words to express being beaten by an inanimate object. Maybe if I just threw some Hulk rage at it, I would get it loose. Twist it, bend it, I didn't care at this point. Hardware is my domain regardless of its shape, and I am not about to lose. This is when I felt my shoulder falter and was sure I'd pulled something. The cover remained unchanged. Well done, imbecile, I thought. Now your shoulder smarts, your back is screaming, and you've accomplished nothing. You could have been packing this whole time. You've wasted time. You've failed, quit and go inside.
My wife called me out as soon as she noted the tone of my voice, and as I have been practicing, I told her what I was feeling and why I was feeling it. Defuse from your emotions, they are what you feel, not who you are. Can I get a show of hands of how many people lose a competition then spend their day smiling over how good it felt to compete? Bullshit, you play to win, or don't play. For the remainder of the day I felt distant, and withdrawn. Try to imagine fallout from an anger powered bomb. I went through the motions, but shame was my constant companion. One of the few things I fancy myself good at, I couldn't do. I had run out of time and accomplished nothing. That same hour could have been spent doing something with 100% chance of being productive, but that's not what I did.
After we returned from our few errands, my wife and daughter relaxed on the couch while I isolated myself upstairs and scrolled mindlessly through Facebook. Some time later I was called downstairs because my daughter wanted to go outside and play. Heh, I thought, something I can't fail at. I slipped my daughter's little shoes on and giant stepped her down the garage stairs to the concrete, then out onto the driveway dappled with late afternoon sun. While she busied herself collecting various front yard treasures, I pulled a bottle of bubble soap from my wife's trunk and set to removing the safety foil with my pocket knife. With the soapy little wand pinched between my fingers, I sat down beside my daughter, whose hands were full of various weeds and pieces of mulch. She was elated to show me what she had found in the past 90 seconds. I genuinely smiled for the first time since I had turned my lawn mower over 5 hours earlier. I blew a bunch of bubbles and my daughter squealed and swatted them. Then I slowed my breath and blew a bigger one. Why am I mad, I thought? The day is beautiful, I'm with my family, and all is well with the universe.
Stop...
Reboot...
Why are you mad? Because I have to admit there is something I can't do
Why? Because I lack the strength/knowledge/tools
Why? Because I have never had to replace a drive belt before
Why? Because I have never owned a self propelled mower before.
Why does admitting this make you angry? I need to be able to service my tools
Why? I consider it something I am proficient at. Whether it be true or not
Why? Pride
WOAH
Pride of life is a sin. Wrath is a sin, and I suffered them both today. I need help. I need my Dad. I need Dan. I need another set of eyes or another set of hands. I cannot complete this project alone.
Until we meet again
-Chase
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