I like to think that I’m somewhat progressive. I live in Washington, DC. I listen to NPR. I try to avoid words like “mankind,” but every now and then I have an experience that makes me wonder if I’m missing out on some satisfying tradition.
I’m a minister. I spend most of my day reading, writing, and talking. Now, I love my job and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but there are times when I feel like I need to do something to give myself a boost of testosterone. Over the past week, I’ve been getting our Volvo (see, I’m progressive) in good running condition. Sam and I went down to visit some great friends in North Carolina who surprised me with paying for a boat-load of repairs (thanks Sandy and Jayme). We finished everything except for replacing a worn-out part that wasn’t available locally. I got the part in the mail and with a few minutes free this afternoon I decided to tackle the job solo.
It was simple enough, loosen 3 bolts, slap on the new part and tighten everything down. The first 2 were a piece of cake, but the third bolt wouldn’t budge. I pulled, pushed, and strained and I couldn’t get it. I gave up. I went inside and asked our doorman if one of the building maintenance guys could give me a hand. They weren’t available. I really wanted to finish this job, so I gave it another shot. I pushed, pulled, and hammered and (cue the triumphant music) the bolt broke free! I experienced an unbelieveable feeling of euphoria. I felt like a man. I surveyed my work one last time, cleaned up my tools and walked back into my apartment with my head held high…then I washed my hands with lavender soap.
