The door on our screened porch isn’t screen at all, but glass. When old screen door sagged, we replaced it with an old glass four-paner left over from a front entry redo. We have acrylic panels to attach over the porch screening to winterize it, but no door fittings and besides, the glass one seemed more dog- and grandson- proof. We’ve never used the winterizing panels, so admittedly, a glass door in the middle of a screened wall does look a bit weird, but we do “weird” regularly around here.
The door doesn’t sag, but opening it has been a constant pain in the butt. In the first place, I think the handle is on there upside backwards. Everyone going out turns it the wrong way–left– for several tries before finally scraping their knuckles–and the paint– on the door jamb when they realize they must turn it right. It constantly goes wonky and needs repair, only it never gets “repaired,” just tightened.
It went wonky again this week. Time to send in the clowns.
(Just kidding, Dearly Beloved!)
Here’s a picture of the configurement:
When I couldn’t get the door open this morning to take out the compost, DB sensed that Momma wasn’t happy and said he’d work on it.
I don’t want to say the man is anal about details, but how close can I come without coming right out with it? He assembled his tools:
He even brought out a throw rug and laid it carefully in the area underneath the door so that if he dropped one of the tiny screws, it would land on the rug and not fall through one of the cracks between the deck planking.
The screw, a 1/4 incher the size of a BB, fell as he was taking it out of the handle. Indeed, it landed on the rug as predicted … before bouncing off and falling through a crack.
“I’ll find it,” DB told me confidently.
He went down the stairs to look for it under the deck.
What’s down there, you ask?
I had to give the guy points for optimism, but in the meantime, I made a list of things for him to pick up at the hardware store and handed it to him when he finally gave up and went to buy a replacement screw.
With the new screw, he eventually adjusted the handle of the door so that it would open, but not so it was fixed to my standards. It was still a knuckle scraper.
Unhappy Momma decided to have a crack at fixing it herself. I grabbed a Phillips screw driver* and began removing the handle, intending to reverse it and point the handle downward so that it would have to be turned left, away from the door jamb, to be opened. DB came rushing out in horror and took the screw driver from my hand, wanting to know what I thought I was doing.
“Man’s work,” he informed me, rolling his eyes when I told him of my plan.
He worked on it some more and says it’s fixed now.
I can’t decide….
Study it a moment and then tell me:
Is the man a genius or a hoodwinker?
*Speaking of screwinesss, when DB and our next door neighbor get together, DB stands for Dagwood Bumstead. “Herb Woodley,” our nutty neighbor, came over and DB told him that I’d attempted to fix the door with a Phillips screw driver.
Herb sympathized, then told DB that he and Tootsie attended a barbecue at a friend’s house and Herb noticed a loose screw protruding enough that someone might be scratched by it. He asked the host for a Phillips screw driver, thinking he’d unobtrusively fix the hazard.
He swears that the host returned with a bottle of Milk of Magnesia and a tumbler of orange juice and vodka.