The Door

So yet again at 11 pm a fight broke out upstairs. Who knows what or who started it. It had something to do with someone taking something out of someone’s room. It’s a popular fight right now and I try not to get too involved, especially if it’s 11 pm when I am generally too tired and brain dead to get myself off the sofa to go to bed, nevermind referee.
Somewhere in this fight, Kev slammed Doris’s bedroom door shut. Now this is quite an achievement because Doris’s bedroom door doesn’t close, hasn’t closed since the dawn of time.
It’s an old door, I presume it once fit snugly in the space made available, it has not closed on my watch.
The door itself just seems too big for the space, maybe the wood swelled, maybe it’s just out of whack, who knows, fact is , this door does not close. Thinking of my grandma’s expression of “wood in t’ole “,
In this case wood wouldn’t fit “in t’ole”.
But just as Kev so cleverly challenges me to my limits each and every day, he challenged that wood to fit and it did, snug, snug, snug.
Then, the little metal bit in the centre, the bit that actually functions to close the door, the watchamacallit? Where there’s a little male chubby piece and a female piece in the door frame, ( I don’t know if there’s a word for it and I’ve just forgotten it, after nearly 20 years here I’ve lost over half my vocabulary) anyway, they too connected, got it on as it were for the first time in a long long time.
So defunct was this mechanism, there isn’t even a handle on the door.
So The Man had to produce his tool box and finagle around trying to slide skinny crow bars and chisels and all sorts in, tooling around with little wires to release the mechanism to no avail.
Doris decides she should get behind the door and push hard while daddy is tooling. To do this she performs some kind of ninja leap from the second floor balcony to her open window. I got Mother of the Year award for hanging onto the back of her pjs as she did this.
Had she fallen my grip possibly wouldn’t have helped as we are nearly the same size and she is solid muscle and I’m, well I’m not. But I choose not to dwell on what might have been.
So she gets in the room and pushed with her considerable might as The Man tooled, all to no avail, in fact, the door on her side just split right across the middle, let’s not confuse ‘old’ with ‘quality’. Cheap crappy old door started to break under the pressure but that chubby mechanism, finally getting some action after years of impotency wasn’t finishing anytime soon.
So The Man decide he too must do the ninja balcony jump, I didn’t offer to hold his pjs while he leapt
And suddenly there were two mighty ninja’s throwing their heft behind the door. Again to no avail.
Kev, the culprit is now fast asleep. 2 hours have passed and the door is still firmly wedged in there.
Every tool in the house has been used twice. Eventually we ( they ) had to dig around the chubby thing
( the fastener?) and into the jamb. With a final shove from Doris, it opened. Bruised and battered and with horizontal splits across both sides of the door, it opened. We can all sleep peacefully.
Next day The Man was limping, he’d hurt his foot trying to kick it open form the inside. I suspect it was a man-bruise. No complaints from Doris, who probably nearly put out both her shoulders.
I suppose I should put ‘buy new door’ on my To Do list.

4 thoughts on “The Door

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