If The Door Doesn't Work, Use A Window

So after my morning routine yesterday, I stopped by a home improvement store (which I'll call "Highs") for a few things. This Highs is pretty much next to my coffee shop and I've been in it a lot over the past month. I know this is true because even 'tho it is a LARGE warehouse space, I roam around like a construction worker on a mission.

I use Highs as a dual-purpose shopping exercise. I typically buy what I came in for, and then I see a few other ideas and I put them in the card and then I get home and realize "yeah, I don't have that kind of wiring" or "whoops - that's too wide for what I need". But not yesterday.

Yesterday I strolled in, got my electrical outlet and light switch plates in the brushed bronze finish ... and the brushed silver, to see which would look better. The ONLY unplanned thing was a kit to grow some paper whites. (We'll see how that goes. I hope to keep my black thumb away from it.) I drove home and started to work. I replaced the kitchen light switch plate (the brushed silver seems to go better with my copper ware) and replaced three plates in the living room.

Buoyed by this success (which, I'll admit, was just knowing how to use a screwdriver), I decided to go to the other nearby home improvement store ... which I'll call "House Terminal" ... with the goal of replacing the rest of the various electrical plates in the house as well as the interior doorknobs. To avoid feeling overwhelmed, I wrote out how many of what I'd need (and noted which rooms they were intended for, in case their supply did not match my needs).

I'm not as familiar with the layout of House Terminal but it didn't take long for me to find the right aisle. After finding the electrical and light switch plates (and then replacing them with a less "designer style" version I'd found further down the aisle), I turned my attention to the doorknobs.

I was in the doors area and feeling somewhat dismayed by the lack of options. I suppose my disappointment was all over my face because a House Terminal employee approached me and said "we have a lot of other options down this aisle ... follow me".

Talk about overwhelmed! It was so much more than just "brushed bronze" ... it was "hallway/closet", "bathroom", "keyed", "smart keyed", "exterior", "dummy knob covers", "lever-style". The selection went for what seemed to be *miles*. It took me about 25 minutes to match the new plates with the right style with the right finish. (Did you know that "aged bronze" is different from "aged brushed bronze" and both are different from "brushed, tumbled aged bronze"? I'm not completely joking, either.) In any event, after much consideration, my new projects were bagged and I was on my way home once again.

{I'll take a moment to interrupt myself here. I really enjoy this kind of work - home improvement, I mean. I'm still very much a klutz, so I'm hesitant to grab a power tool (and still don't own one), but doing work on a home ... mine or otherwise ... to make it more comfortable, safer, more efficient really makes me happy. With so many tasks/jobs, one never gets to see a result. This isn't the case with home projects and, if they're done correctly, the level of pride that comes along is also satisfying. Not the kind of pride that brings about bragging ... but the kind that makes one realize they've made a difference. And, while I'm light-years away from considering myself to be handy around a home, I know that I've made a different in many zip codes in the South and look forward to making a difference in my new home, too.}

I took the first brushed silver light switch plate into the bathroom and removed the old surround. I looked at the old plate ... and then looked at the new one I'd just purchased. Too skinny. The older plate was far wider - perhaps as much as an inch on either side. "Alright", I shrugged. "Strike one. You'll just use it elsewhere and find a replacement when you're at Highs next time."

I then took my newly purchased doorbell switch and headed to the side entryway. I unscrewed the upper and lower screws to see that the switch is hard-wired directly into the bell. "Bummer ... strike two", I thought. (I don't play with electricity ... ever.)

Down but not out, I went to the bathroom and, after using a blade, several screwdrivers and some carefully used force, I managed to remove the doorknob and striking plate. I started to install the replacement knob and immediately realized that adjustments would be needed. After hand-chiseling some of the door along the lever, I turned to the new striking plate. It also needed adjustment but, after about an hour, I managed to get both pieces to fit nicely. I was at "step 3" on the "how to easily and safely install the handles without power tools" when I noticed the discrepancy between the dowel-sized opening that existed in the door and the fist-sized opening the new knob requires. Damn. Strike three.

The various pieces of what I'd removed and what I'd purchased went into plastic bags and I made myself a losers mug of hot chocolate. I felt ... well ... I guess I felt like a fraud. Here I'd spent hundreds of hours doing home repair work just a few years ago and now I couldn't even install a simple door knob. I flipped open an old copy of a magazine that had interviewed one of the families whose home I'd worked on. There it was standing behind them ... the proof ... steps, siding, roofing, windows, paint, doors ... I'd seen this stuff being done before. Heck, I'd DONE some of this stuff before. And now ... the tears welled and a small pity party began with me as the guest of dishonor.

It was about thirty minutes later when my guy visited. I asked him to hold me while I apologized for my failure at these simple tasks. I promised him that I really *had* done repair work and I was successful at it, even. I don't know if I was trying to convince him or convince myself. Without saying why, he took me by the arm, walked me outside, and made me look up. At the moon, the stars, the sky, the trees. Perspective ... he gave me a window with a view of perspective. If the door knob in the bathroom would take longer to replace, who cared? If the light switch plate didn't match the power outlet plate, so what?

^^ All that was yesterday.

I walked out to my car today to find a Craftsman drill case sitting by my door. It's a loan from my guy, who clearly didn't lose faith in me, even when I had.

It's 11:51am and I'm going to go visit Highs in a few minutes to return the doorbell that won't work and the light switch cover that is too skinny. Then I'm going to go visit House Terminal with the old door knob and photos of the door I'm working with so that someone there can tell me what tools I need to make it work.

And, while I'm at Highs, I hope to find a brushed silver replacement for the push-plate that I removed from the door that leads down the stairs ...

Table For Two

I never realized that it could be this easy.

We gather to share a meal - experiences and battle-scars are our dishes to offer. We're either dining with someone who wants - and can accept - an honest reaction ("this is too bitter for my tastes", "this could use more spice but it's good", "I've tried this and I'm not a fan") or we're dining with someone who just needed a space to sit down, who doesn't want to pass around their courses, or who isn't interested in tasting what you've brought to the table. It can be hard to not take that response personally, however it just leaves more for the right dining partner to enjoy.

It's more than being open to try new flavors. It's more than wanting to share your meal in the first place. It's honestly all about finding the right person to sit across from at the table, no matter the course being served.

So fa, so good

Well it was successful.

It may have not been a place I found on my own and the item itself wasn't what I'd originally selected as "hmmmm waddya think of this?", but we found something we can live with AND we are still talking to each other so I'm gonna count it as a win.

Granted, I still haven't seem to found my style when it comes to giving a room a "look" ... but that'll either happen in time or it won't - and I can live with that.