Moral Pickle

This morning, I found myself in the middle of a huge moral pickle.

My car has a flat tyre. I discovered this at a time when my car is the lifeline between me and the rest of the world. Great.

My thought process went something like this:

Me: Shit...

Brain: You need to find a man to fix this....

Me: No, wait, what, why did you say that brain? I don't need a man I am a perfectly capable woman. I can change this tyre.

Brain: Hahahaha! No, you can't.

Me: Yes, I can.

Brain: But you're not strong enough.

Me: Well then I'll find someone to help me - doesn't have to be a man.

Brain: But you're massively accident prone - you'll probably lose a limb.

Me: I'll get help and I'll be careful.

Brain: Rosy, you can't do this.

Me: Yes, I can!

Brain: No. You can't.

Me: Give me one good reason, that doesn't require the help of a man or revolve around my accident-prone-ness

Brain: You don't have a spare tyre.

Shiiiiiiit!!

Ok, the last bit isn't true. I do have a spare. That was for comic effect. But everything else went pretty much along the same lines as you see it here.

So here's the moral pickle. Do I attempt to fix it myself, as a strong independent woman, knowing that I'm likely to break something, or do I admit
defeat and find someone (probably a man) to help?

For the time being, my car will have to stay where it is, sad and broken in its parking place of shame, until its owner can make up her indecisive mind and make it better.

I don't like pickles.