Battle with the Box

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Just to condense about a half decade (or more) of my life into one sentence...


Learning in Tragedy: A Phenomenological Study of Student Affairs Leadership Following College Campus Disasters

So the thing is, I am good at being smart.  Not to brag on myself or anything, but I am rocking this dissertation business.  I will defend my proposal in June and officially attain ABD status...all but dissertation...meaning I've done all the courses, exams, paperwork, etc. of the degree except the final dissertation.  ABD isn't a place you want to stay for very long, but it's a pretty major accomplishment to achieve.  Especially before your 30th birthday.  I finished chapter one this week.  Lots of work to go before even the proposal is done, but I love what I'm studying.  And I'm good at it.  So there.

I'm also good at directions and cooking and having the most spectacular friends imaginable.  But here is what I am not good at: figuring out manual labor type stuff.  There, I said it.  I am that girl.  It's not that I don't enjoy it or feel like I can't do it or someone else should do it for me.  I could actually explain the education psychology/learning styles reasons for why my brain does not work that way and other peoples' do, but I feel like maybe you don't want to really get into that.  I've built houses and done heavy lifting, I'm just not so good at figuring out how to put things together.  Or, as this afternoon proved, take them apart.

Since the shipment company is coming tomorrow to pick up my spin bike, I had to take it apart, construct the giant box I ordered, and successfully pack said bike into said giant box.  It went something like this...




It was at that point I called in backup.  I managed to deconstruct all the pieces except one of the pedals. I tried for an hour.  Pretty sure I have a sprained wrist and pulled shoulder muscles and tool-burn on my hands.  (Is that a thing?  I feel like yes.)   So I shamelessly called my BFF/coworker, who showed up with better tools and teenage sons.  Bingo.  And still, it took all four of us, including a high school wrestler with 100 pounds on me, to get that stupid pedal off that stupid bike and into the box.  Totally worth the blackberry cobbler I promised the boys for their help.  And I am absolutely sure that the box is in no way assembled correctly, but who cares.  That's what duct tape is for, right?


And after all of that, I'm just so motivated to read 100 higher ed crisis response articles tonight.  Seriously...it actually sounds relaxing after the pedal/box situation.  Right after a trip for the world's best chocolate chip cookie (or four).

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