I really have no idea what people do when they are not 1. in a country where you can pay $2 or less and have almost anything fixed (i.e. Latin America and Africa), or 2. in a house with someone like my father and brother, who can fix anything.
I can fix a lot of things. I have a great deal of (probably misplaced) confidence in my ability to fix things, and I fixed things with my trusty toolkit all the time in New York. Drawer handles. Lamps. But there are things (my suitcase with the pull handle breaking away from the casing is an optimal example) that I just save and then present to my dad or brother and say, "FIX IT! Please!"
And in other places, as happened in Liberia last summer when C's sandal (and then mine) broke, you can just hand them to the nearest 15-year old, who is hawking dvds outside the restaurant, and by the time the food arrives, he's back with the sandal, repaired, and requests less than a dollar for it. But if one doesn't have a convenient, cheap repair service, or a free one like that supplied by my dad and brother, I suppose one just throws things away and buys new ones. It sounds expensive.
My dad has now fixed two of my suitcases - the little red one and the big hard sided one. The big one is going to require some filing down of the screws he used to reattach the pull handle, he tells me. That's the one problem with fixing things: they end up with things like pointy screw ends sticking out, or staples in your sandal. But they work. And it's so much more interesting than just buying a new suitcase. After all, this one now carries a story as well as my clothes.
I can fix a lot of things. I have a great deal of (probably misplaced) confidence in my ability to fix things, and I fixed things with my trusty toolkit all the time in New York. Drawer handles. Lamps. But there are things (my suitcase with the pull handle breaking away from the casing is an optimal example) that I just save and then present to my dad or brother and say, "FIX IT! Please!"
And in other places, as happened in Liberia last summer when C's sandal (and then mine) broke, you can just hand them to the nearest 15-year old, who is hawking dvds outside the restaurant, and by the time the food arrives, he's back with the sandal, repaired, and requests less than a dollar for it. But if one doesn't have a convenient, cheap repair service, or a free one like that supplied by my dad and brother, I suppose one just throws things away and buys new ones. It sounds expensive.
My dad has now fixed two of my suitcases - the little red one and the big hard sided one. The big one is going to require some filing down of the screws he used to reattach the pull handle, he tells me. That's the one problem with fixing things: they end up with things like pointy screw ends sticking out, or staples in your sandal. But they work. And it's so much more interesting than just buying a new suitcase. After all, this one now carries a story as well as my clothes.
No comments:
Post a Comment