Namo amitabha Buddhaya, y'all.
This here's a religious establishment. Act respectable.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

You know you live in a high-crime area when...


...your time-traveling craftsperson friends have to help you break into your hall closet. Not your house, your closet. And we aren't talking about coming out of the closet. We're talking just getting into the damn thing.

Here's what happened--the door knob apparently broke and the little piece of metal that holds the door shut slipped out of its housing or whatever and held the door shut for good. After struggling and swearing with the thing for some ten minutes this morning we finally left without our coats. The standoff couldn't last forever, though. Sooner or later we were going to need toilet paper and guess where it is?


That's Tracy with the soon to be headless hammer. Tammy's in the background. My arm is in the way.

Anyway, Tammy and Tracy, who hang out in 1893 quite a bit--that's another post--came over this evening to have a go at the door. First we tried taking off the hinges. That part was easy but the door still wouldn't budge. Logic follows that if a door is held shut by hinges and a hasp, you should be able to remove one of the two and at least get half the door open. No dice. We took the hinges off and the door moved about a half-inch.

After studying the situation, Tracy asked us if we had any tools. We did, of course. Guess where they are? Okay, how about a saw? Er, it's in the same place. Having determined that the door itself was probably beyond saving, we decided that the only way in was through. Through the door, that is.

Tracy quickly decided that Tammy would not be attempting to break the door down, since she doesn't have health insurance. Hey, it was entirely possible that one of us was gonna end up in the emergency room before this was over. So I tried thudding against the door a few times and really didn't get anywhere. Tracy decided to have a go and began bashing the doorknob with her work boots. And her foot. Did I mention her foot? What's left of the door now has a lot of black streaky marks on it.

Anyway, several kicks later the doorknob flew off, but the piece of metal was still holding the door shut. We began whacking the hell out of it with a hammer. When that didn't work, we whacked hell out of the door itself, or rather the wood around the hasp, until it all splintered off and we could see the hasp where it went into the door frame. So we tried to pry it out. It would not budge. Tracy reached in there with a hammer claw and the damned hammer head broke clean off. I'm not kidding. I've got one headless hammer and one that's bent at a kind of funny angle. This piece of metal did not want to move.


Well, some pulling and panting and swearing later we finally got it bent outward at an angle, and then a few more solid kicks got it loose. At which point the door fell on us. (We took the hinges off, remember?) Luckily we were able to catch it, get the hinges back in place (using the pathetic bent hammer) and the door now opens. Sort of. It just won't close.

So add to the weekend errand list a trip to Home Depot to buy a new closet door. Sheesh. It made great street theater for the cats, though.
Success of a sort...

2 comments:

C.I. said...

Totally true. I'm a witness. (I'm the one you can't see, holding the camera.)

- Jen's misanthropic pagan sweetie

laughing_coyote_quilts said...

Sooooooo totally true. Just because I don't have health insurance, doesn't mean that I can be in the daaaaanger zone!