Changing the oil

I changed the oil in my van today. I changed it. Me, myself, personally. I got under my car and pulled the oil pan plug and the oil filter, drained the oil, replaced the filter and the plug, and put new oil in. It felt like a big job going into it, but in hindsight, it really wasn't a big deal. What WAS a big deal was remembering that I am fully capable of such things, and need not wait until my husband gets home to do them. An aspect of my own personal brand of feminism that I'm sure he doesn't mind one bit.

I once installed a new garbage disposal, which involved uninstalling the old one, and realizing when it was all done that the old one wasn't broken after all. So I uninstalled the new one, reinstalled the old one, and never had a problem with it after that. So attention to detail is not my forte, but darn it, I'm pretty handy around the house.

Oil Change
31 July 2008, 3:52 PM

That stubborn old bolt wouldn't budge.
For a moment I considered waiting
until my husband got home,
but I'm married because I want to be,
not because I have to be, so I dig deep
to find that part of me who can't abide
certain men holding the door for me,
beat my hell out of the wrench, and laugh
when it budges the slightest bit, because I know
compromise is a slippery slope,
and I have won this argument.


A Larger Mosaic
31 July 2008, 4:03 PM

There's a savorable quality to existence
lying on your back under a mini-van
with black, worn out sludge draining
from the oil-pan. The air is cooler and sweeter
knowing I can do this, and my love is coming
home at five because he wants to,
not because he must. These moments of toil,
interspersed with revelations of freedom
and cool caresses of a late-summer breeze
in the merciful shade of an oil change
are bits and pieces of a life lived as part
of a larger mosaic of trust and willingness
to work together toward our common desire,
to keep the wheels turning, the fires burning
until day's end.