So right on the tail of my run in with a termite ridden bookshelf, I've had another piece of my home fall to pieces. This time it was my door.
The apartment I live in was an add on built by my Grandfather before I was born. It has two levels to it but they are only accessible from outside so I have two front doors. The downstairs door has been slowly falling apart until a panel finally just fell right off it, leaving a big hole in my door. Actually, at this point my door is more hole than door but I digress.
It was recommended to me that I go to a shop that sells recovered pieces of buildings. A very eco-friendly and economic way to replace my door. So I and a friend went down to this place called ReUse It.
It was fabulous, having everything from hasps to telephone poles and the people who worked there were friendly and very helpful despite the sensation of being roasted alive inside the large metal warehouse.
I felt very prepared with my measurements of my door and my handy dandy tape measure in my purse and we found a wide assortment of doors for sale. I found one with the perfect measurements I needed and hefted it onto an empty cart. However, while I was there I thought I'd look for a door for my Grandmother who's been wanting to replace one of her doors as well. I found just what she was looking for but it was an inch too long.
Then an employee comes by so we ask him if they would cut off that pesky inch for us there. Oh no, they didn't have the tools for that in their massive warehouse workshop and yet he was surprised that I didn't have a circular saw just sitting around my tiny cluttered home.
"You just make a straight cut," he said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "And then you shellac the hell out of it."
"I'd really rather not," I said, looking at the length of solid oak door. "I think I can hang a door but cutting into it is a different matter."
Then he tells me not to underestimate the difficulty of hanging a door and that you actually must be trained to do this.... and yet he thinks I can handle a circular saw no problem. What proceeded afterward was a ridiculous performance I wish I could re-enact for you. Alas, I'm limited to words so I shall try my best to describe it.
"Have you measured the door you have there?" He asks, pointing to the door I've already chosen.
"No," I point to the tag taped to the door with the measurements on it. "The measurements are right here."
"Oh, but those could be off," he shook his head as if he didn't work there and wasn't directly responsible for said measurements. "You should do your own measuring."
"Ok," I whip out my tape measure but now he feels left out.
"Oh, no, I'll get it," he says and measures the door which is indeed much wider than its tag had stated. "Oh that won't do."
He got the measurements I needed and went searching for a better door.
"Now what's the swing on the door?" He asked as he looked through the assortment of doors lined up.
"Swing?" I blinked at him.
"From which side does it pull out?" He stops and comes to stand in front of me.
"Oh," I say. "If you were standing outside the house, this is the way it would open," I mimed pulling a door open from right to left.
"Like this?" He asks and does the opposite.
"No," I say, "from right to left."
"Say I'm the door," he holds himself straight. "Which way would you move me to open me?"
I grab his left arm and swing him out toward his right. He turns around and does the opposite maneuver.
"Like this?" He asks.
"No," I put his back as he was, "like this," I pull him open again.
"Like this?" Again he does the wrong movement.
My friend is meanwhile standing off to the side watching our little comedy routine with great appreciation.
"Why are you not getting this?" I asked and replaced him. "Like this, its the opposite of what you were doing."
"Oh, like this?" He again does the same motion.
"No," now my friend has had enough and she's got involved. "This way."
Still he doesn't understand.
"There are only two ways to open it," I shook my head. "It's the way you're not doing."
"Which side are the brackets on?" He finally asks.
"If you're on the outside of the house," I say with relief. "They're on the left."
"Oh, ok," he wandered off to the doors again. "Here's a couple."
I just looked at my friend and shook my head.
Good news is we did end up finding a door, it was an old inner door because they don't make outer doors at the width that my Grandfather had made ours, but it was an old door and therefore a very solid one. I'll have to put a padlock on it since it doesn't have a handle that can be replaced easily and the only lock on it can't be opened with a key but I was happy to find a door and they very nicely carried it out to my car for me, all for fifty bucks.
I'll get back to you on whether I'm able to hang it.