We’ve lived in our old house (built in 1911) for 4 and a half years. Basically none of the upstairs doors have knobs or if they do, they don’t work. I was getting ready for supper club last night, Boomboom came home, puttered about in the basement and was upstairs for maybe 5 minutes.
“Come up here.”
I go upstairs. He is grinning widely and proudly opening a shutting the middle bedroom door – and the knob works! It latches! and even the lock works!
I am literally speechless. My mouth is open, flies are flying in and out.
“I can’t believe we have lived here nearly 5 years, and it only took you 5 minutes to get the knob working. Why didn’t you do this 4.5 years ago?”
“Oh, well, I had to take pieces and parts – knob from front bedroom door, latch from who-knows-where – to make it all come together for the middle bedroom door.”
I am still a little astounded. Not that I am not grateful that the door now works, but just that it wasn’t a huge, day long ordeal with lots of cursing and yelling – that it only took a mere 5 minutes. Everytime I go upstairs and have to use the know to get into the middle bedroom, it surprises me.
And when I go to the top of the stairs, and see the middle door closed, the back door rigged shut and the front room door barricaded with the yoga ball and box, I feel sad for little Ruby. Her bed is in the hallway – good thing she has taken to her downstairs bed and new blanket. Long live the Purple Wizard!