I've been noticing the brokenness. Our washer went on the fritz and a new one's coming. Hopefully it will arrive within the next few days, but in the meantime I've gotta wear socks that don't match. I've no need to get riled up about socks, though, because I think I can trust the promise that we'll be getting a new one.
When I was in the Walmart parking lot at High Street two days ago I discovered a broken tail light on my golden chariot. Honestly, it's a Ford Explorer, but calling it something else is what gets me places. Do you know what I'm saying?
Anyway... tail light. Broken.
My garage door opener hasn't been functioning for Who knows how long, so today I stopped at the hardware store to ask about replacing the battery. The cashier fiddled with it for a moment and said something like this: "You just have to take a screwdriver and pop this open and do that..."
While she worked on it with admirable confidence, a woman behind me leaned harder on her cane and said in a slightly sarcastic and jovial tone, "Don't you just love it when the ones with expertise say 'here's all you gotta do' as if it's the easiest thing?"
I decided not to compare myself to the cashier. It would only make me upset. After all, she's been practicing this often—probably for years—because of her various customers looking for battery replacements. Of course she's going to excel at it!
Besides, I'm different from a cashier. Being a stay-at-home mother is just as honorable and well worth practicing.