My husband knows me after all these years. From the time I came home to our first apartment in Brooklyn with the Atkins Diet book, threw it at him and said, "read this and tell me what to do". Or when something comes with a manual: "Just tell meeeeee it!" I moan to him like I am a 10 year old girl. (because I am) For all my love of reading and all my love of recipes and why certain ingredients work, manuals, texts, and other intelimigent shtuffshs like that can take a hike. So he knew I knew who was running for president, but that maybe I wasn't paying attention to much more. I DVR everything and fast forward all political ads. I hang up fast when I hear the delay of a response after I say "hello" to a call suspiciously at dinner time or 8pm. We are a house of two political parties. We are hit a lot.
So, I am a scrubbin' and he starts a listin' all the stuff I can vote on. Assisted Suicide? OK, I am for that. Medical Marijuana? Sure. It is booze in a wrapper and makes people feel better. The Right to Repair. Hey now, that got me thinking. I know it is about auto shops and such, but my mind flew off.
I would love to have the right to repair my lower roll. After 3 babies and a childhood of twinkies, it is a battle ground. I want the right to have it repaired on the grounds that I have stopped birthing and stopped with the twinkies (and I said nothing about the Drake's pies so you just hush now).
I would love the right to repair a piece of clothing that a loving spouse threw into the dryer while helping with the laundry. Or the new and instant favey sweater the (suchsweetloveyoukittyfrigginkittyfrigginfurball) cat used to sleep and knead and roll on on my bottom shelf of the closet. Yarn pulls and talon holes abound the soft grey and cream stripes.....I think those favorite items that were destroyed before their time, or after such a long time you can't replace them, should re-appear, a nice ironed crease here and fluffing there, in my dresser (away from the cat).
I would love the right to repair all the knickknacks little hands picked up and smashed while visiting my parents over the years. Upon our leaving, the little cows and cups and porcelain boxes would come together again without shards missing or the rock of guilt in our guts.
I would love the right to repair a hurt feeling immediately. The minute the hurt is registered, or the second it begins to fester in someone I love, I want the right to make it all go away as if it never happened, and will never happen again.
I would love the right to repair a friendship that was lost for no good reason other than pride or misunderstandings. I want to file the report and have in 6-8 weeks a friend request and or lengthy email (I know it wouldn't be a letter) that gets us all settled into a friendship again.
Of course, I do have the right to repair all these things. Not the magical way that it just happens, but then again, laws aren't magical either. They are worked on. I can't replace what is broken, but can gift a new. I can buy another sweater to love. I can have plastic surgery if I really felt in necessary. What I struggle with is the friendships. The hurt feelings. Should I reach out even when I feel I am the one hurt? Is my amount of hurt or sensitivity the norm or something imbedded in my curves? I have no clear perspective on that. I attempt to think this through, often.
Much like that lesson that circled the globe about the piece of paper crumbled in a ball representing a hurt word said to another. No matter how it is smoothed and rubbed and someone tries to repair it- we know it is never repaired. It stays. The hurt is there. A fix doesn't cause amnesia. So in that area, one is screwed.
There are words I can't take back. There are words and actions I can't give back to someone who threw them carelessly. My only correct action in this area is to not make the error in the first place. And, another person's right in this area is to not have to feel my mistake either.
Be nice. Think twice. That is the bill I am proposing. I am doing my best to make it a law for myself.