one of the French doors in front |
So yesterday I decided I'd remove the screen doors and install the storm doors.
It was a lovely day. Mid-70s and sunny. If you closed your eyes (so you couldn't see the leaves all over the ground), you would have thought it was still summer.
Not.
We have four doors and two floor-to-ceiling French-door windows (in front) that need changing. The front and side doors are easy: twist a couple of thingies on the door, and the insert (screen or glass, depending on the season) is free; remove it; replace it with--well, with screen or glass. Takes mere minutes.
There are two doors on our back screened porch that are a bit more difficult: One leads from the kitchen to the porch; the other, to the outside and the back yard. Both require a screwdriver, perhaps a wee hammer, and an abundant supply of curse words.
Yesterday, though (why? why? why?), the inserts came out easily, went in easily. (Could I be getting good at this? Naw ...)
And then the screens/storms for the two French doors in front. First of all--they are big; second, they are freakin' heavy (especially the glass inserts). But--hey!--why go to the health club every day if you can't even carry a damn glass insert from the garage to the front of the house, eh?
So, I lugged those suckers out to the front porch, easily removed the screens, felt a surge of self-confidence (which soon morphed into self-delusion and -loathing). The glass inserts went in only reluctantly, as if they were mirrors of my own reluctance to do this job--of my own dread at the prospect of another long winter in northeastern Ohio.
Joyce helped me. Kept my profanity (somewhat) under control.
And, together, we did it. She Windexed the glass while I lugged the (lighter) inserts to the garage, where they will live until Hope returns.
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