Last night, I came home from the gym with intentions of making a smoothie.
It was going to be kale, spinach, a peach, a couple of strawberries, a banana, and a touch of orange juice.
But, it never happened.
Because the smoke detector chirped.
Michael said something to the effect, "Oh, I need to call your dad to come change that battery."
I put the kale back in the fridge.
I thought, "What? You think I can't change a battery?"
I get the step ladder out of the garage.
I manage to get the old battery out.
I put a new one in.
I heard chirping.
I tried to open the smoke detector back up, thinking maybe I put the battery in backwards, because I wasn't tall enough to actually see what I was doing.
It won't open.
I punched it.
It started hanging by a cord.
I smashed it into the ceiling.
I picked it up and threw it across the laundry room.
I forced it open, turned the battery around, and put it back on the ceiling, thinking I had won.
At this point, I was so angry, out of time, and I had to abandon the mission and get ready for work.
I was FULL OF RAGE I'm telling you!
I had to turn on the praise music for my shower, because I seriously wanted to break some glass or punch something.
Why do I do this?
Why must I be so stubborn?
Why do I hate to ask for help, or directions, or admit that I don't know how to do every and anything?
I'm such a MAN.
This morning, when I got home from work, it chirped.
That stupid smoke detector beat me.
What I hate the most?
Michael was right.
We do need to call my Dad.
I'm thankful we live in the same city, and my Dad is cool with being perpetually on call for house fixing type things, and I pay him in whole bean coffee. But still, I do hate it. I hate asking for help. I hate needing help.
This is the number one thing I think I would struggle with, if the roles were reversed, and I was the paralyzed one.
I'm so hard headed. I would probably end up on the floor every day, trying to do something my own stubborn way, instead of the smart way - just asking someone else to help me for a second.
Now... my Michael has his moments...
Brokaw came to the rescue, though - happily abandoning his stuffed elephant.
Where Michael is a million times better than me is... he RARELY loses his cool. There are so many ways I wish he would hurry up and rub off on me!
Chirping smoke detectors, cat food all over the floor... yeah, we're a real inspiration over here! Haha.