#hahahahaAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAAAAAHAHA

[slippery-minghus]

you ever just have a mundane little epiphany that violently throws into perspective how much more mature (emotionally and otherwise) you are than your parents?

so uh. there's this paper towel holder. with a quail on it. and apparently there's a lot to unpack from that paper towel holder.

you see this paper towel holder is a cute little wooden stand. one screw on bottom to hold the post that the roll goes on, and another screw on top for the "lid" with the little quail on it. this has been my mother's for as long as i can remember—so, either older than me or something she picked up when she left my dad when i was a young teen. who knows.

but this paper towel holder's always been rickety. the post is loose, it's hard to unscrew the lid, it's always wobbly. it came second hand, so what can i say? i needed a paper towel rack when i moved out, and this one came with me. it's just... always been that way.

well. today. some decade plus at minimum of having this thing, i realized i'd put the roll on backwards and needed to switch the direction, but i couldn't get the lid to unscrew. it was just turning the post along with it, because the lid was on too tight. oh well! i thought, getting frustrated, guess i'll just have to live like this! the screw at the bottom is stripped anyway, nothing i can do except wait until the roll is empty, then tear off the cardboard.

wait... nothing i can do? because the screw is stripped? the screw that has been stripped for as long as i can remember? ..........why can't i just get a new screw? i've got some handy!

so uh. it took maybe two minutes to fix a minor "there's nothing we can do" inconvenience that's been lagging behind me for at least a decade. a decade!!!! because no one in my family (or me to this point!) thought "wait, but what if i CAN do something?"

there's just. so much to unpack there. about my mother's refusal to claim any agency. about my dad's narrow-mindedness. about how much i've grown, but how much growth i still have to do.

as soon as i realized i could swap out that old screw, instead of spinning the damn thing over and over and over again, my frustration evaporated. i'd felt like i was bashing my head against a wall, spinning that damn quail. because that's the legacy i was raised under. a pair of very miserable people who categorically refuse to lift so much as a finger to improve their own lives.

because why would they? the spare screw in the closet five feet away requires effort, when it's so much easier to just close your eyes and say "there's nothing we can do... this is just how things have always been."