So last week I took my youngest son back to college. He’s a sophomore now, and is now living in his first apartment. He’s also the youngest of seven kids. What that means, in parental terms, is that he needed all brand-new furniture for his room… no more hand-me downs left to hand down. They got used up by the first six kids.
More specifically, it means that I, mom/driver/do-it-yourselfer, had to put together a six-drawer dresser, a one-drawer desk, and a bookshelf, all purchased in tiny little boxes from Target. No sense in spending a lot of money to buy a college kid “nice” (read: already-put-together) furniture.
Here’s where my lesson learned comes in: Neither my husband (wonderful as he is) or my ex-husband or a thousand other people I can think of off the top of my head, could have or would have spent FIVE BLEEPING HOURS in beautiful Colorado in a small apartment bedroom gluing and screwing furniture together. So why did I?
Because I am able. I am logical, patient, determined, and intelligent. And these are all the qualities that make me capable of sitting alone, at a desk, quietly creating novels. Over the 47+ years of my life, I have rarely failed to achieve my goals. Whether my goal is to get three pieces of furniture assembled in time for dinner with my son, or publishing a novel, I never stop until I am successful. (Please see my previous blog entry referring to the Calvin Coolidge quote on persistence.)
But which came first? The need to turn 280 random pieces of wood and rails and screws into a dresser, or the ability to do such a task? Or, the fact that until my book sells, I must be very frugal?
So many questions, so little time. So many callouses on my hand.