Slapping Aesop Upside the Head

Remember when I was psyched about my deck? If you don’t you can refresh your memory by reading Redemption. I’m almost embarrassed by the way I gushed with so much enthusiasm because now, if I had my 'druthers, I would put a torch to the whole entire deck and be done with it. What has happened? (Well, you can never underestimate the power of the hormonal cycle in a woman and anybody would be a fool and/or suicidal to make that mistake but that's another blog for another day.) I’ll tell you what has really happened, two hundred more square feet of decking renovation has happened( it's actually more square footage but measuring is overwhelming). Not to mention the railing that surrounds the entire looming entity. There is nothing more tedious than trying to put rosewood oil on hundreds of one by one inch railing slats. Where is Tom Sawyer to come recruit me some fence painters when I need him? I have been doing this job for four weeks now and every muscle is tired and sore. I feel like the Karate Kid under the cruel and exacting dictatorship of Mr Miyagi. And if I don’t get to Crane Kick somebody in the face as my reward, I’m going to be really mad.

In sum, I just want to quit. I fleetingly mentioned my quitting nature in one of my first blogs: Calling All Artists. In this glossing review, I might have failed to convey my lifelong commitment to this quitting. I am so fond of my plan of inaction that I even tried to quit giving birth to my firstborn child twenty hours into labor. Exhausted and unable to comprehend the pain and frustration of a seemingly ridiculous process, I turned to my husband and told him, “That’s it, I can’t do this. Just take me home. I’m done.” If it weren’t for my husband’s amazing and surprising skills as a doula, my son could easily have ended up as some sort of vestigial appendage, instead of the six foot something, seventeen year old, independent being he is today. That, and the fact you can’t actually quit labor...believe me, I tried.

I have no doula to talk me through finishing this dumb deck renovation. It has become tedious and tiresome and I am sick of it. When I last mentioned my tendency to quit, I also mentioned that I am trying this new thing called, “Not quitting.” Toward that end I am being my own doula. I have been talking to myself (silently) in soothing and encouraging tones, telling me,”You can do this.” As I wax on-wax off in an endless round of monotony, I find myself saying, “Slow and steady wins the race Meghan, slow and steady wins the race.” Soon I realize how stupid this saying is. Slow and steady wins what race? I doubt there was ever a real race that slow and steady actually won.

Suddenly I want to slap Aesop upside the head. I begin a full-scale argument with this belaureled toga-wearing moron who made up the story of The Tortoise and the Hare in the first place. I start to imagine that Aesop must have been an uncoordinated doofus who had a very athletic sibling who always won every physical contest they ever had. Aesop, while physically challenged, was persuasive and crafty with the words. So he used his talents to create a scenario by which he, the tortoise, could beat his brother, the hare. And for century after century, we, like gullible idiots have taken to heart a lesson so contrived it hinged on a narcoleptic rabbit.

I am now furious that I have spent so many years, probably thirty-five, believing in the sage wisdom of the moral of this ridiculous story. Slow and steady does NOT win any races. Fast and steady probably could win you some races. Let's take Lolo Jones for example, whom I admire for her awesomeness and her ability to run races without slipping into slumber. Is Aesop seriously going to try and tell her, that if she had just gone slowly in her 100m hurdle race at the 2008 Beijing Olympics, she would have won? She might not have tripped over that second to last hurdle but she sure as shooting would not have won that race. So should the moral of the story be, “Slow and steady keeps you from tripping”? or should we really shoot for the stars with “Slow and steady finishes the race”? That’s a little more plausible.

The new moral doesn’t take into account the possibility of the inveterate quitter. Who’s to say that going slowly would have prevented that silly hare from taking his ill-fated nap? Maybe he would have gone to sleep anyway but because he decided to go slowly, he would have covered less territory before slipping off to dreamland. Where does that leave me, who most closely resembles the idiot bunny in this scenario. If I started my chore slowly, then I probably would have just gotten less accomplished before deciding to quit. That would be worse than my method of starting out with high enthusiasm and then losing the enthusiasm over time until I come to complete standstill.

Maybe the moral of the story for me should be this: “Don’t take a nap before you finish the race you naughty bunny.” I take this new line of encouragement and use it as my own personal doula through the renovation process. “Don’t take a nap before you finish the race you naughty bunny." Aka: "Don’t quit, Don’t quit, Don’t quit.” Surprisingly my harangue against Aesop has carried me through the homestretch of the project. As I look around, I realize all I have left is the outer skirting of the deck to finish up. That will involve some ladder work. Ladders on the hillside might keep me entertained through the end. If not, maybe I will find another ancient sage, perhaps Plato or Socrates, to pick a fight with. If all else fails, I will be my own advocate: “Don’t take a nap before you finish the race you naughty bunny.” Who knows? It might work. It got me through today.