So last night I broke two legs… not my own fortunately. But two legs.
I have a tendency to be pretty headstrong and think I can do a bunch of things by myself. I like doing them by myself. Gives me a sense of accomplishment afterwards. Most times, that works for me. Every once in a while though, it does not. Last night was one of those moments.
I have this dresser/cabinet and up until last night it had four legs for which it was perfectly perched upon. I’ve moved this thing before, by myself, but it had been a while and it was late and I really didn’t think it through. I wanted to move it from one bedroom to another. So I basically just started pulling and pushing it out from the wall, through the door, down the hall, through another door and around a corner to get to the place where I wanted it to be.
It’s not a massive piece; it does have substantial weight but it’s definitely not equivalent to a barge or anything. I moved it before on my own. However, this time I didn’t take into consideration the carpet and the friction and pressure that would build up while maneuvering this awkward piece around corners and through hallways.
As I neared the spot where I intended this thing to end up, I gave one little push and CRACK! It echoed through my hallway and down my stairwell. I immediately knew what had happened. I laid it down and checked to be sure. I had severed two of the legs from the piece. The screws had busted through the wood from where they had been happily living for the past 10 years or so…
I took the other two legs off and as I did I recalled how I had moved this chunk before… I had flipped it over onto it’s top and slid it across the floor… I was much smarter back then. Or maybe more well rested. Either way, I had wreaked havoc on this chest which had been minding its own business just a few short moments prior.
I did go ahead and push the piece to its new home and left it there, legless and broken. Good news though… while it may be approximately 6 inches shorter, it does still function. So that’s a plus. I’ll fix it one day, but today is probably not the day.
As I think about this broken cabinet I am thinking about how this poor, pitiful, innocent, unsuspecting block of wood is now so much like me lately. It functions but it’s partially broken. I’ve been limping along for a few months now. This is due to a variety of reasons… busy schedule, holidays, lots of “to-do” lists, selling a house, animal care, and I, myself, have not been feeling my best. For those of you who don’t know, I suffer with a thyroid disorder. While this is something that will never be cured, I can live with it by taking a daily drug to supplement what my thyroid does not produce on its own. However at times, more often than I like, the dosage does have to be adjusted. In the meantime, I drag. It’s not a sickness that people can see, I just feel yucky. My energy is nonexistent, my hair falls out, I gain weight, I lose my appetite, my skin becomes really dry, my eyes hurt, I get sick with infections more easily, my brain is covered in a fog that affects my focus and concentration, and the list goes on…. these are just the early symptoms. It gets worse.
Now I don’t write this for pity. I certainly don’t want that. I very rarely even bring up that I live with this condition because I don’t like to give it that much control over my life. But there are times when it’s just unavoidable and right now is one of those. I power through usually and keep trying to do life at high speeds that would scare most race car drivers… but sometimes I break. I still function, but I’m essentially not in full working order, much like the cabinet, much like my thyroid. The cabinet and I were one last night as I made this parallel between it’s unfortunate state and the state I’ve been in for the last few months.
I’ll be fine (after a few doctor visits and adjustments to medication) and eventually I’ll feel good again. I’ll get fixed, just not today. But the good news is neither of my legs are broken… at least not at the moment…