November 15 I are a crapenter

Today’s tasks were to drive across town to Homeowner Hell, buy a security door and replacement hardware and to haul it to our kids’ house. After that, we were to demolish the old, funky door and its faulty hardware before replacing it with the new stuff. It seemed pretty straightforward and simple. It seemed.

Reality quickly set in with and extended foray through the Balboa Avenue Home Depot aisles of things we didn’t need before finding Aisle 33, Bay 3, where the security doors were found. After not much confusion, we pulled out the door we wanted and loaded it onto a six-wheel cart with only two of the wheels having flat rolling surfaces. It made an irritating clunking noise as we wandered through the shopping maze. Our next stop was at Aisle 7 where we eventually found the door hardware we needed, despite there being no service personnel to assist us. Then we were off to checkout and soon back out into the daylight. One-quarter of our workday was gone by the time we jumped into the truck for the ride to the house.

It is quite evident why security screen doors got their name because getting the old door off the face of the house required considerable grinding, some dedicated elbow grease and we only started two fires with hot metal sparks. We then Vise-Gripped the long screws that held the old door out of the framing. Some previous house paint colors could be seen under the old frame, a testament to the length of time the old door has been bolted to the front of the house.

Then there was a concentrated effort by Peggy, Sam and his spouse, Kate, and me to install the new security screen door before I remembered that the front door opening of our house is not square so a bit of cosmetic frame work might be necessary. We installed all the jambs plumb and the header level but that means nothing with our front door. Our boy, Sam, came home from college towards the end of the fun and was gracious enough to offer me a nice shot of Jack Daniel’s Honey. Not long thereafter, Peggy and Kate shot over to Ranch 99 Market, an oriental grocery near the house. Disappointingly for American restaurants, Ranch 99 makes the best fried chicken in the neighborhood. KFC should take note that ferners produce better fried chicken than the Colonel and his substandard wage minions.

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