Doorknobs. I hate doorknobs. Scientists need to come study our house, because it appears as though our humble home has become a breeding ground for some new doorknob-infecting disease. It all started with Mike's room. When we first moved in, we noticed that the doorknob would occasionally fall off for no discernable reason. This was all fine and good until the day that Mike closed his door at bedtime, woke up the next morning, turned the knob, and heard the sound of the doorknob clunking to the floor on the opposite side of the door. So there's poor Mike holding a severed doorknob and a bit perplexed about being trapped in his room. Fortunately, I was outside getting in my car to go to work at the time of the incident, and Mike was able to lean out his window and implore me in a very reverse-Rapunzel fashion to rescue him.
A few months later, we noticed a problem with the side door of our house, namely that the doorknob and latch were having some sort of domestic quarrel and refused to work together. This caused a very *ahem* amusing period in our lives wherein the door would occasionally open itself, and our cats would avail themselves of the opportunity to flee the house and hide under Holly's truck in the driveway. Eventually, the landlord's henchman "fixed" the door, which means that the door will remain closed, but only after the user of the door has swung it closed with such force that the entire house quakes.
So then there was the kitchen door. Our house, which should rightfully be a two-familly dwelling, has two staircases, the second of which has a deadbolt-enabled door at the top. We noticed one day that the doorknob to said door was hanging by a thread, so we contacted the landlord, who sent a henchman over. Henchman Eric's solution to this problem was to affix a new doorknob, then secure it by means of some putty-like material which he never bothered to file down or shape into anything remotely aesthetic. Doorknob works, but is surrounded by a strange alien substance which I am adverse to touch.
A short while later, the doorknob to our upstairs bathroom fell off and, as the doorknobs are the faceted glass variety, the inner knob of the doorknob duo hit the floor and a chunk broke off. For months, we kept a towel next to the bathroom door for the express purpose of doorknob handling. "Use the towel to open the door!" we'd warn guests, "We don't want you to slice your hand open!" Eventually, Henchman put the door into working order by attaching a new knob, which had apparently been harvested from other home or dump, because it was covered in tarnish and rust even at its installation.
A couple of months ago, the doorknob to the primary upstairs staircase door fell off. We occasionally reaffix it to the door, only to have it fall off again the next time someone opens it. Goes like this:
Door opens. Sound of glass doorknob hitting hardwood floor
Person Entering the Room (usually hopping up and down in frustration): Godammit! Son of a bitch!
The good news was that the landlord has evidently purchased a new doorknob for us (along with the front stormdoor he bought 3 weeks ago and has yet to install). Problem is that we can't find the damn thing. We're pretty sure he accidentally took it home with him and by this point (given his not-so-secret lifestyle) has probably fashioned it into some sort of drug parephernalia.
So this morning, as I was leaving for work, I turned the doorknob on the front door and (guess what!!!!) found myself standing in the foyer holding half of the doorknob to our front entranceway. I managed to screw it back on as much as possible, but I'm pretty sure it's a lost cause. No storm door. A front door that won't close properly. Thank God we have nothing anyone would ever want to steal.
posted by Kate at 4:42 PM link/comments
