Effing Turn Signal
I was about ten minutes away from home today when my turn signal started clicking doubletime, as in “YOUR TURN SIGNAL IS OUT. YOU CANNOT SIGNAL. YOU HEAR THE NOISE BUT NO ONE CAN SEE THAT YOU ARE GOING TO TURN. YOU ARE BREAKING THE LAW.”
I got home and told Michael. Part of me was wanting him to say, “Oh, that sucks. Let’s go figure it out and get it fixed.” Instead, I got a distracted, “Stupid turn signal!” as he continued to work on his computer. I was probably expecting him to react the way my dad would react – but Michael is not my dad, and I don't really want him to be my dad. I just wanted someone to take the problem away from me so I wouldn't have to deal with it. Like my dad.
So now I’m unreasonably resentful that Michael didn’t just drop what he was doing, assume my problem as his own, and fix it for me in a “I’m-a-man-let-me-handle-this-car-issue-little-girl" kind of way (feminism is a "when you feel like it" kind of belief, right?), and I’m getting anxious about driving to work tomorrow in rush hour traffic with no turn signal. I decide that I'm going to effing take care of this problem myself, and I'm going to take care of it RIGHT NOW.
I found a YouTube video, a screw driver, pliers, and my iPhone flashlight, and I went to town. In the middle of this, Michael told me, in a rather superior tone, "I just always take my car in for that kind of thing and don't mess with it."
"OH YEAH? WELL NOW I'M DOUBLY GOING TO SUCEED AT THIS." **
**Things I only say in my head
I'm going to cut this story short and just tell you that I failed at both methods I tried. I have plenty of excuses for why I failed -- THE SCREW WAS STRIPPED. THE PLASTIC THING WOULDN'T TURN -- but the main point is that I spent an hour out in the garage and got pretty much nowhere.
So...I called my dad. The plastic thing I wasn't able to turn? He got it out in about 5 seconds. Dads, man. Dads.
I got home and told Michael. Part of me was wanting him to say, “Oh, that sucks. Let’s go figure it out and get it fixed.” Instead, I got a distracted, “Stupid turn signal!” as he continued to work on his computer. I was probably expecting him to react the way my dad would react – but Michael is not my dad, and I don't really want him to be my dad. I just wanted someone to take the problem away from me so I wouldn't have to deal with it. Like my dad.
So now I’m unreasonably resentful that Michael didn’t just drop what he was doing, assume my problem as his own, and fix it for me in a “I’m-a-man-let-me-handle-this-car-issue-little-girl" kind of way (feminism is a "when you feel like it" kind of belief, right?), and I’m getting anxious about driving to work tomorrow in rush hour traffic with no turn signal. I decide that I'm going to effing take care of this problem myself, and I'm going to take care of it RIGHT NOW.
I found a YouTube video, a screw driver, pliers, and my iPhone flashlight, and I went to town. In the middle of this, Michael told me, in a rather superior tone, "I just always take my car in for that kind of thing and don't mess with it."
"OH YEAH? WELL NOW I'M DOUBLY GOING TO SUCEED AT THIS." **
**Things I only say in my head
I'm going to cut this story short and just tell you that I failed at both methods I tried. I have plenty of excuses for why I failed -- THE SCREW WAS STRIPPED. THE PLASTIC THING WOULDN'T TURN -- but the main point is that I spent an hour out in the garage and got pretty much nowhere.
So...I called my dad. The plastic thing I wasn't able to turn? He got it out in about 5 seconds. Dads, man. Dads.
This is as far as I got -- behind the liner and to the bulb and the plastic part I should be able to twist off.