Yeah; it seems to happen every time I try to do something.
This time is was my bathroom window. It screamed to be cleaned. Well, actually, all my windows are screaming. I've yet to find someone willing to quell their screeching.
I'd do it myself if not for my back and my inability to stand for more than 3 to 5 minutes at a time. However. This time. This time it was only one window that squalled above all others. It was different.
You, see, each time I sat on the commode (yeah, I do that several times a day), long, thick strands of cobwebs and dust accumulation hung across two panes and begged me, "Pulleeeeze, this is embarrassing. Clean this mess off."
I might have left the garland of dust if not for my offer to my granddaughter-in-law. I told her she could come over during her lunch hour and take a nap to stave off her exhaustion. (She's pregnant). She works from 9 to 6 and the day takes a toll. I'm not pregnant and I take a couple of naps a day. Just can't keep my eyes open. Fibromyalgia robs me of energy, though. Nevertheless, I can relate.
So, this morning, my dirty window just gnawed at my being. Alas, I grabbed the Windex and paper towels. I fidgeted with the buttons that allow my window to come forward to allow me to wash the outside. They worked. I was emboldened. I started by cleaning out all those little spider ball eggs, and wiping out the grime in the bottom of the window. Then I sat down a moment. I washed the window and was so proud as it squeaked with joy, rather than rudely yelling for a bath. Then it happened.
The mini-disaster.
The blunder of incompetence.
When I tried to right the window to slide it back down, the window dropped on one side and I couldn't budge it. There I was with my freshly cleaned achievement and I had no idea if I'd break the window if I tried to force it into the track properly. So I stood there, staring at it. Then I talked to it. "See? This is why I haven't tried to do this. Everyone says it's so simple. Sooo easy."
Then there is me. What seems simple to some women, ain't so simple to others.
I thought about shutting the bathroom door till my husband got home. But it was 30 degrees outside. So, I do what I normally do, when I create a mess I'm not sure of how to handle.
I texted my husband at work. Lucky for me, he was not far away. He texted back that he'd be right over. I hated to surrender. But with my health issues I didn't dare let that window just hang there. I envisioned it crashing to the floor and exploding all over the bathroom. I felt stupid. I felt incompetent. But, my blessed husband came in and fixed it lickety-split. I wouldn't have had the strength to push it the way he did to right the matter.
I'm grateful that today of all days, he was nearby and not 100 miles away, as he could easily have been. I realize anew that I do not have to be Wonder Woman. The humble pie I've eaten in life is enough to destroy the average feminist today. But that's okay. My window is clean. And it's back in place. And no. I'm not cleaning anymore windows. I'll leave that to someone better equipped to handle the job. I've learned a new limitation.
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