A Handy Man I’m Not

I consider myself a handy guy. So, this past weekend, while my wife was on a retreat with the church, I decided to make some changes to the master bath. After six years of living in this home we have never touched the space and it was long over due.

After several visits to Lowe’s, I had the necessary supplies. I purchased six gallons of paint, two buckets of spackle, shiny new handles, silver towel racks, a chrome trash can, white picture frames, golden oak flooring (and a partridge in a pair tree). After a mere 48 hours of blood, sweat, and tears, I was able to survey the results with pride. Even though it wasn’t a finished work when she arrived home, I believe my wife liked it, too.

However, I cannot take all the credit. The work was a team effort. My daughter painted the bath and closet doors and she did a really nice job. Tonight I decided that the doors were ready to hang and so I attached the hinges and new door knobs and carried them from the garage up stairs to the master bath. As I examined the space, it became clear that the painted bathroom door would look better hanging from the closet. Without consulting my wife or my daughter, I decided to make the change.

Ever the handyman, it was obvious that the bathroom door had three hinges while the closet door had a measly two. I needed to chisel a third space in the door frame for the middle hinge that, for some odd reason, didn’t exist.

I found my hammer and chisel and tapped a hole into the freshly painted frame. I exposed bare wood, chiseling deep into the soft pine. It wasn’t long before shavings fell liberally to the floor. My wife stepped over them and into the room, asking what I was doing. With pride, I showed her my work and stated the now infamous words, “This is the sign of a true craftsman”.

I set down my chisel and hammer and picked up my screw gun to drive the hinge into its newly cut space. With my lovely spouse watching intently, I pulled the door shut.

Even as I write this, I have to wonder why the builder of my home would use a 32 inch door for the bathroom and a 36 inch door for the closet. That’s right, the door doesn’t fit. Where the edge of the door should meet the frame, there is a four inch gap. My wife stood on one side of the gap and I stood on the other. Through her tears and laughter my wife blurted out, “Yes, that’s the sign of a true craftsman!”

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go back to Lowe’s for some wood putty and more paint.

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