Life is a tradeoff. One day you’re breathing a sigh of relief that you don’t have to rip out your new bathroom because of an unbearable stench, the next you are cursing the door department at Lowe’s with every ounce of breath in your body.
We’ve been waiting for the final interior door from an order we placed with Lowe’s last October. This one is their third attempt at getting it right, and at this point, I think we both just want to be rid of each other.
It looked like we were going to be, because the door was the right material, the right profile, no dings or dents. They must have run out of things they could possibly get wrong, I thought. Oh, but they hadn’t. When we removed the cardboard packing, the entire area around the doorknob was split out.
I don’t think it was an accident that Joe and his dad took off for Lowe’s without telling me, and took my car keys with them. Joe reported that when they got to the store, my father-in-law told them, “If my son’s wife had come with us, somebody here would be dead.”
He’s not wrong. This isn’t just a door, it’s a gateway to my sanity. The parts of the house that remain engulfed in chaos do so because of this door. Without it, we can’t finish the baseboard, so we can’t finish the hall closet, so I can’t unpack, so my house is an unholy mess. And did I mention we’ve been waiting since October? Death would be too good for them.