As I’ve mentioned before, I am incapable of walking in our bedroom at night, closing the door, getting into bed and going right to sleep. I get in and out of bed at LEAST three times before I can settle down. Most of the time, it’s to leave the bedroom because I forgot to do something.
Monday night, as I opened the bedroom door to make my first exit of the night, the door made the same, loud, cat-possibly-being-run-over-by-a-dump-truck screeching sound that it’s been making for a few days. For whatever reason, at that particular juncture, I had enough.
Me: “I’m fixing this RIGHTNOW.”
Jason: “At 10:00 at night? Of course you are.”
I rummaged through the junk drawer, found the WD40 Pen (you heard right, playa) and went back upstairs.
Me: “Don’t worry. This is SUPER easy. I fixed it the last time it was squeaky. You just rub the pen on the hinges and voila! It’ll stop.”
Me: ::rubs pen on hinges. Opens door.::
Me: “Oh, I have to do both sides, probably. Don’t worry, Jay.”
Jason: ::playing on his phone, disinterested:: “Ok, buddy.”
Me: ::rubs the other side of the hinges. Opens door. ::
Me: “What the heck?! It worked last time! Don’t worry, I’m DEFINITELY going to fix this.”
Jason: ::playing on his phone:: “Ok, buddy.”
If you’re wondering whether or not this went on for literally 30 more minutes, the answer is yes, it did. That mother effing door decided its mission in life was to never succumb to the lubrication prowess that is WD40. It didn’t matter how much I was putting on or from what angle I was lubing it from (thatswhatshesaid). It would not.stop.squeaking.
At one point, about fifteen minutes in, I sat down on the floor, half in our hallway, half in our bedroom, and nearly cried. Jason was of no help, but, in his defense, I went into this knowing he would not be. For starters, it was bedtime. This is his least favorite time of day for me to come up with projects. Secondly, I never asked him. I made a point to say that IIIIIIIII was going to fix the door. We both knew that, for better or worse, I had to be the one to fix the door.
Guess what, guys! I did it! After 30 minutes, some tears, lots of frustration and possible staining of our doorframe from WD40 (Don’t worry, Jay. I’m DEFINITELY just saying it’s stained for dramatic effect. I definitely did NOT stain our door frame.), I did it! It stopped squeaking!
Me: “I DID IT!! I will NOT go quietly into the night! I will NOT vanish without a fight! I’m going to SURVIVE! Today is my INDEPENDECE DAY … from squeaky doors! See?! See what I did there, Jay?!”
Jason: “Yup. Quoted Independence Day” – said in a completely unimpressed voice.
Me: “Yup! I did. I was doing a bit! No more loud doors around here, as long as there are people like ME out there, fighting the good fight against squeaky hardware.”
Jason: “Great job. I was really worried you were going to ask me to help, which would irritate me and start a fight.”
Me: “I don’t need no MAN to fix a squeaky door. Nuh uh. I DID IT! ME!”
Jason: “Great job. Can we go to sleep now?”
5 minutes later
Me: “But it’s pretty cool I did it, right?”
Jason: “Yes, buddy.”