Dec 08 2005
The Doors
Observant readers like the eagle-eyed Mike (I’m betting his kids don’t get away with much!) may have noticed that although my door has a wreath, it did not have a doorknob. Typical of Me to accessorize without worrying about those dull necessities.
It really wasn’t my fault, though. A couple of days ago, I woke up to discover that the door would not open. The diva doorknob generally expressed her temperament by refusing to stay closed, but decided that an amusing variation would be to stay closed and see how I liked it.
I didn’t. I also could not open the door, and sooner or later, I would almost certainly want to venture out into the Wide World, despite generally agreeing with the Water Rat’s dim view of it.
With the doorknob snickering in the background, I called the building manager, Mister Anonymous. Yes, that’s his legal name. No, I don’t know why. I just call him Mister.
He came over as soon as he could. First, he had to oversee the ejection of an enraged and screaming Boob Girl, who managed to smash the glass in the building’s front door on her way out, in spite of the fact that she was in a straitjacket and being carried by a couple of strong men. I learned later that she had expanded her sales campaign from knocking on doors to slipping flyers advertising her sexual services under them. Imagine my annoyance to learn that everyone I know in the building had summarily disposed of these erotic ephemera. Now I’ll never see one.
So Mister went from one broken door to another. You can imagine that he was in a pretty good mood by the time he got to mine. First, he took the doorknob off. Still stuck. Tried to take off the hinges, but only two out of the four would come off. Finally, in exasperation, he kicked the door – and it opened. I still have the deadbolt to keep it closed, but Mister hasn’t brought me a replacement doorknob yet. Fortunately, the wreath was unscathed.
Comments Off on The Doors