 
				
			
		This past weekend I promised myself I wouldn’t overdo
it. Apparently, my definition of “taking it easy” and my body’s definition live
in two completely different zip codes — possibly even time zones.
Saturday morning started simple enough. I decided to do a
little patchwork in the driveway. Never done it before, but hey, I watched a
3-minute YouTube video. I mean, how hard could it be? Spoiler alert: very.
I’m convinced YouTube needs a new disclaimer — “If you’re not a professional,
double the time, triple the effort, and prepare to question your life choices
halfway through.”
Once I finished (and was absolutely sure I hadn’t worked
hard enough to count as “overdoing it”), I made the mistake of spotting the
can of paint. You know, the one that’s been staring at me for three months,
whispering, “You’ll get to me eventually.” So, I did what any reasonable person
would do — I popped that lid open and decided to paint the front door trim
before winter.
Now, I’ve painted enough in my life to know that the second
you open a paint can, it acts like a people magnet. Suddenly, the neighborhood
remembers I exist. Sure enough, as soon as I dipped the brush, someone wandered
over for the longest conversation ever. Bless Sheila — my hero — who
swooped in like a superhero with a distraction so I could actually finish the
job.
It’s funny, when you’ve got nothing to do, nobody calls,
nobody visits. But the minute you try to do something that requires focus,
suddenly you’re more popular than the latest Reese’s Cup creation.
After I wrapped up, cleaned my mess (and parts of myself),
Sheila and I went to dinner with some amazing friends — another brain injury
survivor and his wife. Four of us total: two survivors and two caregivers. A
perfect balance of chaos and compassion.
We laughed, ate great food, and for a few hours, I
completely forgot about my scraped knees and the surprise streak of paint on my
hand that made it look like I’d attempted a sad DIY manicure. Note to self: I’m
never painting my fingernails again. I don’t care what trend men are following
these days — this guy is officially sitting that one out.
All in all, it was the perfect ending to a day that started
with good intentions and ended with good friends. We all agreed we should do it
more often. And I, for one, can’t wait — preferably after my knees stop
reminding me of that “easy” driveway project.
