So at some point, I signed up for shop class. I am not skilled or interested AT ALL at anything shop class might offer me, however, I felt like this was important information I needed. My dad had taught me how to change the oil in my car, then told me I’d have to find a place to recycle the oil, and then I figured out it was just as cheap to get an oil change and have them recycle the oil for me. He also taught me how to rotate my tires; again, not needed.
So I signed up for this class and got to the door of the classroom/garage. I took one look inside that class and dropped my first class ever. There was no way I would go in there. I did not WANT to take that class, I only signed up because I knew I needed to be a well rounded individual who could take care of her car. Years later, I realize, I was afraid of failing. If there had been no grades in that class and no criticism, I might have taken it. I might have struggled a lot, but that would have been ok. (there were grades and criticism and a classroom of mean boys, so I think it’s safe to say I made the right choice).
At some point, I also learned how to change a tire (that’s a whole other hilarious story)
So now, here I am, without my husband and I have a big RV. Now this isn’t like having a car where when something goes wrong you take it to the shop. This is something with repairs that cost money and if all the blogs I’m following are true, RVs break down every 5 minutes.
So there I am, trying to change the batteries in this thing. I am trying to take this a little at a time. I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew, but today my job is to take the old batteries and recycle them for new ones. I wish I could convey in words how little and stupid I felt. First, I had to read directions on how to take them off, take pictures and then lift them out (they were at least 300 lbs each!). Then I had to take them to the battery place and sound even stupider. Didn’t help that someone had recently stolen my credit card, so all I had was my AMEX which they didn’t take. I got some cash, got the new(er) batteries, and got home.
So I put them in the RV. They sparked. I shrieked, possibly cried a little at how stupid and pathetic I was. I called a friend to assure me I was doing it right. I even used gardening gloves because I was deathly afraid of being electrocuted. In the end, I got them installed and they worked. By now, it was nighttime so I couldn’t test them out too well, but they worked. I got the generator working (it hadn’t been on for a month, so it got a good workout in) and I accomplished something. I would like to say I felt a little empowered and little better about myself, but the truth is, it just showed me how much more I have to learn.