My Pirate knocked down the front door today.
We made a cut, attached a new rubber threshold to the bottom, rehung it and the door wouldn’t close. Our eyes locked and we both cursed in unison. Then we popped the pins and tried it again. Meanwhile, Barnaby was calling out, “Hey guys, you forgot me in the backyard,” with drool cascading out of his jowls as he kept licking the sliding glass door until it was white and foamy. The Assistant was smiling like a lunatic at all of the commotion. I love that about her.
We recut the door; hit a nail and the saw zagged. Again, we cursed in unison. We took a quick iced tea break and resumed our work. We rehung the door only to notice that the doorknob thingy was installed wrong. My Pirate worked on the doorknob while I quickly vacuumed up Barnaby’s compost debris that he keeps sneaking in the house.
With a sigh, My Pirate closed and opened the front door while I applauded. I shut the front door, let the dogs in, and gave them an ice cube for all their trouble. I’m so happy to have a front door that works. Now, I won’t have to bring my guests in through the garage door anymore. The third time was the charm.