Shame Blame
It made sense at the time. Actually, all my bright ideas do, at least to me. Repeatedly when I do not fully think things through or do my research, there I am, wondering, ‘what in the world was I thinking?’ I have had some real doozies too. From my early days to my current seasoned years. Some of my antics are disastrous, some embarrassing, some expensive, and some never to be mentioned again. Afterward, I am on the lookout for someone to blame for my shame. Of course, the finger always points back to me.
I was about 20 years-old and getting ready for a party. Trying to remember who was with me. Cousin Joyce said it was not her because she definitely would have told me that what I was doing just would not work! Anyhow, I thought it a good idea to dye my white platform sandals black using regular shoe polish. I achieved my goal, or at least I thought I had, until thirty minutes later. We were walking in the rain heading to the party. I looked down at my shoes. I do not know what I expected to see, but the black polish was running off. It was after Memorial Day and I was going to end up at the party wearing white shoes (covered with black blotches.) Trust me, it was not looking good.
Some years later, when my sons, Malik and Ebon, were young, I decided cutting their Afros using a pair of dressmaking shears was a great idea. I was going to save $8 plus tips with my thrifty self. When I finished, they had patches of hair and patches of bald spots all over their heads. My boys were running around looking like the worse case of scalp ring-worm in history. I kept trying to even it out, but it only got worse. A family friend had difficulty processing what he was seeing. Looking at me in horror, he kept asking why I decided to cut their hair myself. He could stand it no longer, went home, and showed back up with hair clippers. Giving my sons nice clean, close cuts.
My most recent ‘what in the world was I thinking’ moment really did make sense at the time. A few months ago, our clothes dryer would not heat up so, I did what we all do when something breaks. I looked it up on YouTube. I determined our heating element had gone bad and announced to Darrel that I would fix the dryer myself. Being the supporter that he is, Darrel looked away from the TV, long enough to give me a “you are woman, I hear you roar” glance. That all changed when I realized my limitations and told Darrel he needed to fix the dryer instead of me. Instantly, the hunt was on for a repairperson. I asked around for referrals. My daughter Kito suggested asking her mechanic. I asked if he worked on dryers and her response was, “it’s a machine, isn’t it?” In our infinite wisdom, we came to the same conclusion that a clothes dryer is the same as a car. With all machines being the same, of course, he could fix it.
I ordered the heating element and the mechanic came to install it. Yes! The dryer was blowing hot again. That is until the next day when I ran a load through. The mechanic came back, and said we had received a defective part. He left saying he would return when the replacement part arrived. When I called, I could not get an appointment with him to finish the job. Tired of waiting, I called Sears Repair service. The next day, the new part was installed and the clothes dryer working properly. The Repairman explained that the heating element we ordered was not defective. When the mechanic installed it, he crossed the wires causing it to short out. If I had called Sears Repair in the first place, we would have saved almost $200 and been covered with a warranty.
A couple of days ago, I asked Darrel why he let me listen to Kito. I asked him if it sounded right to him to call in a car mechanic to fix a clothes dryer. Darrel looked at me and could not keep a straight face. We laughed so hard we cried.
I learned two valuable lessons after that particular mishap. First, do not ask Kito for appliance repair advice. Second, Darrel is off his game. If he paid closer attention to my foolishness, he could have prevented all of this from happening. Yep, I found two to blame for my shame!
Amanda
