The Accidental Skills-Course of Widowhood
My husband passed away in April 2021 and since then I’ve been in charge of household mishaps, maintenance, and acts of God such as wind, rain, storm, and hail. I’ve also inherited the requirements of a thing that may have been my husband’s biggest challenge: my big ideas.
When we lived in our first home, I joked that I was the architect and my husband was the contractor.
Put simply, I would get an idea and he would build it.
On the first Mother’s Day, just 18 days after his death, my boys gave me my own tool box. I’m not sure if they really thought this through.
“Mom…you used your new tools to take apart the lock on the front door?”
“Yep,” I proudly replied!
A beautiful mechanical work of art, hidden in the wood of our front door, fell prey to my amateur efforts to do my own repair work on our 1951 home.
Unfortunately, I could not put it back together!
By this time, I can imagine my boys trying to figure out whose big idea it was to give me tools.
Technically, the front door was a left-over project from 2009—one of those projects that was never quite finished. For example, there was the time our son-in-law so thoroughly locked it that it went into “jam” mode for a week. Then there were times, as recent as a month ago, that folks leaving my home were afraid to turn the knob lest it fall off.
My resume with tools, before dismantling the lock mechanism, follows:
- Successfully hanging a tool holder on the back porch for brooms, mops, and dog leashes;
- Successful hanging of photos, shelves, and the like since we arrived in this home in 2009;
- Installing (and three times “post-wind repairing”) the rattan privacy cover on our back fence.
Then, the front door strikes again!
It looks rather innocent, right? The brass colored handle is the storied one mentioned above. The peep hole has been missing its door for 16 years.
Recently, the door was rendered useless and could not be opened by key, nor from the inside.
My daughter helped me find a professional to fix it for good. She found several and the one that sounded the most promising had a $65 service call fee + $85 per hr. with a 2-4 hour estimate.
Back to my tool box?
Yes. I returned to my toolbox after which I sent this note to my daughter:
“It took me about 30 seconds to unfasten two screws and then I was able to get the door open.”
Next, I went to the garage and got the WD-40 (which my husband called “weasel pee”) and oiled the lock thoroughly. I used the key to open and shut the lock repeatedly. After that success, I got so inspired that I pulled out some brass cleaner and voila!
I actually fixed the lock this time!
Friends, we are stronger and more resilient than we know. Sometimes we even get on-the-job training!
Go ahead and take that thing apart! You can always hire someone to fix it if your inner handy person falls short.
Long Live Widowed Folk!
Long Live Love!
