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Saturday, July 26, 2014

DIY: How To Hang Bifold Doors in Just Three Days

Prep work: Have doorless, gaping closet hole of horror for 4-6 years. Stare at it daily in shame and humiliation. Try a variety of cover-ups, including but not limited to: red drapes hung on a tension rod. Notice that it looks like a mudroom closet that is missing its doors and is trying to look chique in red drapes hung on a tension rod. Disassemble. Resume shame for additional 12-36 months.

Recall that said closet once boasted doors. Remember the nightmare inducing scenario of right side door falling on head of toddler that one has been hired to guard and protect. Hire therapist to unearth repressed memories of hauling said Doors of Death and Dismemberment to the garage.

Take holidays. Venture into garage to dig through rubble to unearth doors.

Drink gin.

Go back indoors, stair at gaping hole, feel shame rising, return to garage. Resume search. Curse compulsions to purchase and hoard and compile things and then dispose of things in Shame Spiral.

Conjure inner CROSSFIT GYM SQUAT MAMA WHO CAN DO ALL THINGS.

Drive to Steinbach, pull into an entirely unfamiliar parking lot: Penner Building Supplies. Enter. Walk, pretending to look purposeful. Actually locate "bifold doors" without fainting, hallucinations, carcinogenics, opium, or staff assistance. Note price on Ugly Door. $56.00. For one.

Pretend to have stopped at Penner Building Supply to use the toilet and do some price checks. Exit.

Return home, bypass house to resume garage search. Find Kokanee. Try to forget about mudroom closet.

 

Day Two.

Begin kijiji search. Two doors for a 48 - 49 inch opening. Pore over the math. Conclude that two 24 inch doors are required. Leave "interested" responses on three ads that meet the requirements. Wait. Receive reply on the most appealing ad of all- "Free bifold doors".

Create floral arrangement out of wild flower mix that succeeded in back yard garden. Drive to the south end of Winnipeg and locate address of free doors. Pull into an impeccable front yard that would rival the Garden of Eden. Load free doors into the rear of Rusty, Almost Dead Montana Van and leave pathetic, sucky, sad, and lame floral arrangement at the front door. Ponder the relevance of one's existance. Drive to McGavins' Bread Store to buy nine hundred and seventy seven loaves of bread in anticipation of endless pb and j sandwiches about to resume after conclusion of summer holidays spent not fixing closet doors.

Drive to Home Depot. Locate the correct aisle for door hardware and begin to select All The Things that I might need. Try to look confident as "an associate" comes down the aisle towards me. Pretend that I own a hardware store in another part of town and that I hang doors as a hobby and a career. Confirm with said associate that I am choosing all the right goods, and then discuss bifold door hardware as casually as I can muster.

That's a lie.

Tell associate that I've never done this before and that I want all the help he has ever received in training and life experience and beg him to tell me that I am on the right track. He makes hilarious joke about tracks, as this is one of the parts I am required to purchase.

Make a purchase of forty-freaking-one dollars on hardware.

Go home. Spend the evening on Pinterest. And YouTube, watching "How to Hang a Bifold Door". Begin to sense that I am invincible and entirely capable of every imaginable thing.

Sit in my mudroom and stare at gaping hole.

Carry doors in, and place one in existing track. Swear and return to garage for Kokanee.

 

Day Three.

Face the undeniable truth that the doors were NOT twenty-four inches wide. Return again to kijiji but feel the weariness of more floral arrangements, more road trips, more conflicts with my measuring tape.

Paint the front door blue.

Clean the eavestroughs.

Have my warts burnt.

Schedule a physical.

Remove my own wisdom teeth.

Consider a home hysterectomy.

 

Ride my bicycle to the thrift shop. With my tape measure. Locate TWENTY-FOUR INCH BIFOLD DOORS for $5.00 each. Ride my bicycle back home to switch up for a '91 halfton. On my way, come across a friend in van, and stop traffic to chat on the street for way too long. Likely cause local civil war by traffic flow interruption. Anticipate next community letter with new bilaw outlining traffic/chatting laws.

Bring home five dollar doors and use toolbox razor blade holder thingie to remove Dollarama stickers that apparently come backed with some sort of granite strength adhesive. Find wood glue to reglue doors after removal of sticker causes collapse. Use clamps. Feel invincible. Use empowerment to remove hardware from free kijiji doors and reapply to five dollar thrifted doors.

Work self into sweat drenched fury guiding first door into existing track. Recognize that original problem of door-on-boy's-head concerned the track having stretched too wide, thereby causing door to heed to gravity. Smack forehead for purchasing new, now unnecessary track. Employ pliers to tighten existing track.

Burst into song.

 

Note that doors have a certain five dollar bargain-ish look to them. Find paint, roller, and pan. Paint doors. Paint trim around the doors. Paint trim around the back door, move on towards the window trim, take a hard look at the bathroom door. Sit down. Study absence of gaping hole, make mental note of what is now safely hidden from prying eyes: winter jackets, cans of fruit, a variety of paint and stains, soccer shoes, a bundt pan. Meditate on the meaning of closets, and wax internally eloquent on the symbolism of hiding our own, authentic, messy selves from the world around us. Snap out of it- remember that No One wants to know that our enchilada sauce is on the same closet shelf as the baseball gloves that Sam never uses.

Take it all to the next level, by actually remembering some vintage door hardware and vintage door pulls in drawers around the house. Ride my blue bike back to the hardware store to get the appropriately threaded and long enough screw/whatcha-ma-callie to hold the whole mess together.

Take champagne off ice.

Consider a new career in home renovations, plan to charge by the hour.

Or perhaps by the day.

 

10 comments:

bygeorge! said...

If only we lived closer... We could property flip outhouses and chicken barns.
WELL DONE!!!

joyce said...

At first pass I read- "We could PROPERLY TIP"
sort of like cow tipping, but outhouse and chicken barn tipping. More ambitious. And I wondered about the value of tipping outhouses. And thought that it would be a great treatment for rage.

And then I re-read.
Property Flip.

Totally. I'm all over that.

Anonymous said...

O.M.G. we live a parallel life! Are you a fly on my wall? Except of course that you are an inspiration cuz I am still at state of "stare at gaping hole" and "shame rising" non-ending. Hadn't considered the home wisdom teeth extracting, but you have me thinking now...
Will touch base soon!
VB

brenda said...

Joyce, you are a credit to women everywhere! Almost makes me want to tackle the broken door in my basement, ALMOST. With a Mr. Fix It around the house though I have the luxury of leaving it to him while I do what I do best: read a book, drink red wine, organize my thoughts, read another book, chase dust bunnies, manicure my nails, read another book.

PS LOVE the blue front door!

elaine said...

I thoroughly enjoyed this hilarious rant! Bravo on your final success...but more so, thanks for the laugh! :)

You seem to be determined, humorously self-analitical, pleasantly self-medicated:) and obviously have many ingenious talents aside from your very best one...writing!
Keep up the good work!
Cheers!
e

joyce said...

Thank you, Elaine!

(I didn't really drink all those things......)

janice said...

First I am so impressed by all that, and duly impressed by the telling of it. Second, I am disapointed that you did not drink all that. Well, not really - we make our own choices.

Third, I am reminded of the years of shame at my old house, because of missing bi-fold door - just one. Shame coupled with resentment at the since kicked-to-the-curb man who had removed said door, on a whim. Eventually I put it back on, with no trips to the hardware store - but there was a posicle-stick used as a wedge in there, and some pliars to tighten the track. All my toddlers grew to be six feet tall by then.

Fourth, your blue front door and your vintage hardware look AWESOME!!

Fifth, I thought married women could sit and eat bon bons and sip gin while their manly men did such tasks. But I have never been married.

Sixth, if you read this far, BRAVO.

joyce said...

We make our choices, indeed.
I am now listening to the rhythmic sounds of my kitchen faucet drip, drip, dripping.

Sorry to burst your bon bon bubble.

However. My hands and feet turn to ice at night and Brian has warm legs. He just adores me when I surprise him with my appendages. So, that's why I kissed my single life good bye.

Anonymous said...

And your windows are shiny too.

I feel like such a loser.

Periwinkle Dzyns said...

almost enough to make me want to tackle the dirty window on my front room that I have been staring at for 5 years
almost