It's mornings like these that make me question the pursuit of a writing career. Not the rejections or closed doors, but the life stuff that gets in the way and makes writing and publishing seem so irrelevent.
For me, it's always how much of a "failure" I am at "guy stuff". I mean, I'm no stranger to hard work, have no problem getting dirty and sweaty. I actually like it. I love mowing my lawn and cutting back brush and stuff like that, because I just like the physical exertion of the thing, and it's also MY LAWN. Sounds strange, but I get a huge kick out of tending to MY LAWN. You know, the LAWN THAT I OWN.
But when it comes to being SMART about guy/mechanical/handy-man stuff, I'm a total failure. Take this morning's fun for example: my van's battery died (YAY WINTER!) and when I went to pop the hood to jump it...the dang thing wouldn't go. Frozen solid. It's been doing that for awhile, but usually, I'm able to jimmy it.
Not today. And, when I finally exerted some serious tugging on the release handle, a super awesome bonus: freaking thing literally ripped away from the molding, broke its plastic mount. Which leaves ME banging the hood, tugging it, trying to pry the release with a screwdriver... even kicking it.
And now, proof positive of my absolute lack o'manliness:
Abby: Well, where's the WD-40? Maybe we can just spray it and it'll pop open.
Me: I dunno. This thing is really stuck this time. I think it's finally broke.
We find WD-40. I spray the release under the hood through the grill copiously, while Abby tugs on the release inside, and thennnnn...