I walk into the kitchen to grab a snack and notice a puddle on the floor. Not thinking too much of it, I wipe it up and go on with my day. A few hours later, I head to the kitchen again and once again, there is a puddle on the floor. This time, a quick investigation reveals the puddle-making culprit – the freezer is leaking…

In ‘normal’ times, I would have just called my landlord and waited for her to schedule a repairman. But this is Covid times, when I have a stockpile of emergency food I don’t want to risk melting. When the idea of a repair person in my safe-covid-free home conjures up images from Outbreak. No…in these crazy times, I am going to try to fix the fridge myself.

Armed with youtube, duct tape and a tool kit, I got to work. Much to my surprise, a few hours later, I had actually fixed the fridge. I was elated. CRISIS AVERTED! I felt like The Incredible Mrs. Fix-It. I grabbed a nice, cold, snack out of the fridge to celebrate my victory.

Later that night, while I was lying in bed, I began to consider the broken fridge situation further. I was so happy that I was able to fix it. I felt so relieved, empowered, that I had been able to keep myself and my stuff safe. Frankly, I felt like a badass, like an on-top-and-in-control Alana, who is a crafty, prepared, master of her own universe, that can stay a step ahead, that can stay safe.

But these feelings, they belie a glaring truth: If I was so on-top-and-in-control, of my life, or my stuff, how on earth did my fridge break in the first place? If I am so special, badass, if my skill or preparations or craftiness really kept me safe, why am I cowering at home afraid of a tiny virus?

I use my small victories – moments where circumstances align with my wishes, moments where I ‘fix’ things or force them into states I want – as proof to sell myself the lie that I am somehow special, that the world, or at least my corner of it, will obey me, confirm me, keep me safe. But I am taking the wrong message away from these instances: In a world that bowed to me, the fridge never would have needed fixing because it simply wouldn’t break (and it sure as hell wouldn’t break in the middle of a pandemic, when I rely on it most, when fixing it involves such peril).  In a world that bowed to me, I wouldn’t need to avoid a virus because my body would remain unbroken.

The real message should be that there is no safety being dependent on things that are unreliable. There is no mastery or greatness in having to duck and dodge the impermanence and danger inherent in this world.  I am vulnerable, like all people, like all objects. Crap I need failing me, leaving me hanging, does not a badass make.