the wonders of lube

The locks of my cello case have been rusting, slowly but surely, and I put up with all the squeaking and the stiffness until today, when I found that the nuts on the major two hinges holding my cello case together had popped out somewhere/sometime, and suddenly the prospect of having to fork out a few hundred bucks for another case became very real.

But anyhow, that was just a temporary scare, nothing that a trip to the hardware shop couldn't solve. More importantly, I sort of woke up to the idea that I should stop abusing my cello case by letting it rot in rust or allowing it to crash to the floor, despite the fact that we do have a mutually abusive relationship.

Enters WB-40, the amazing lubricant that works wonders for rusted parts. Now the locks click shut with a nice full sound, without the accompanying squeaks. But the rust is still present, a deep dark brown, the indelible reminder that once upon a not-too-distant time I let it be, didn't care about what was happening to it, didn't care if it consumed itself and died.

It would be great if we could have lubricant not just for physical parts but emotional unhingedness. or for relationships rusted in an uneasy stalemate, where smiles actions words feelings come across as stiff, forced, deliberately constructed to give the impression that everything's still functioning alright.

But come to think of it, we do actually have lubricants for life and relationships - religion, friends, mediators, music - basically anything or anyone that makes living easier, less painful, easier on the joints. Sometimes you find them in the most unexpected places, like deep muscular relaxation techniques in a social work lecture. Sometimes you find it in cathartic connection with a character in a movie that makes you feel understood in a strange way. Sometimes you find yourself attempting to be a lubricant but ending up as sandpaper.