The Pain of the (re)Learning Process in New Beginnings

I need to just accept that in acclimating myself to living on my own again is going to require my making mistakes. I really blundered in the purchase of my washer and dryer off Craigslist. Don't misunderstand, the units work fine, but upon running my first load of laundry, one of the connections wasn't secured, causing one of the faucets to leak, which caused some water damage on the ceiling of the unit below me.

The owner has understandably asked that I cover the repair. It's not bad, nothing that requires emergency service, but it's certainly fair that I make things right. I got some online estimates, and if I'm lucky, the repair will only cost me a couple of hundred dollars. Combine that $200 to the $150 I paid for my washer & dryer, the $80 for the U-Haul truck to move them, and the $210 I blew on having an electrician switch out my dryer's cord with a three prong cord when I could have done it myself had I checked my diary's notes sooner, and I could have bought brand new appliances. Not to mention, I wouldn't have had to deal with hauling them up those flight of stairs by myself. Oh, and I also wouldn't have inconvenienced the owner of the unit below me.

I very much screwed myself over, didn't I. Well, I supposed I didn't "screw myself over." It's not like buying a used washer and dryer ended up costing me more than a new set, so I'm not in a worse condition. Also, I should just be grateful, that I can actually afford to cover that repair without disrupting my life. I'm not going to have to survive on bread and water for the next month after I cut that check. Nonetheless, I can't stop my brain from going back over how things played out. If I had only just decided to buy new appliances. If I had only thought to tighten that connection. If I had only thought to google, "How to change a dryer's cord." I suppose it's a lesson I won't soon forget.

On a more positive side of relearning how to live on my own, I'm figuring out how to cook again. I wasn't anywhere close to Wolfgang Puck's level of culinary expertise, but prior to my life going in the toilet, I was pretty decent about cooking my own meals. I'd usually cook one big meal on the weekend, eat leftovers for a couple of days, and either eat out or take the frozen-then-nuked option. My previous apartment had a gas stove, which I had never used until then, so I was a bit fearful of trying it. Every time I turned it on and heard the gas, I thought about every Michael Bay explosion I'd ever seen. I eventually grew the stones to start using it.

My current place has a gas stove, so I had to overcome that fear once again. This time, it only took me a couple of weeks to man up as opposed to a couple of months. Granted, my delay this time was partly attributed to having to figure out how to turn the gas on. I couldn't for the life of me get it the range to light up. When I tried, I'd hear the gas turn on, and the ignition would start sparking, but no flame would come up. I pulled the oven out from the wall and flipped whatever switch behind it off and on, and now it works.

I actually baked some potatoes this past week, and tomorrow I'm going to make some chicken fettuccini alfredo. Baby steps still count as progress.