The Repair

Our laundry machine is working again. Apparently, it was only a small problem in direct proportion to the leak we had. It doesn't change the fact that we are now in a state of WASH EVERYTHING, just in case the repair goes horrendously wrong and we have to cut off the water to the machine again or flood the entire apartment. We're even washing stuff Boyfriend found at the bottom of a pile next to the cleaning supplies. Just because.

I'm in a cleaning mood, today, which is weird, since it started last night and a sinfully, gloriously long night's sleep didn't squish it like the despicable thing it should be. The fact that we made a huge mess while making chocolate cake last night might be a factor. So we're on our third load of laundry in twenty-four hours, the first load is dry and folded and at some point, I'll probably pick up the vacuum cleaner and get rid of any cake crumbs and sugar crystals remaining from last night's rather cartoon-esque activities in the kitchen, which spread through the entire living room.

My domestic aspirations soared last night, when I decided enough was enough and looked up how to repair the front door.

Oh, yeah, the front door. It has a thing where it wouldn't be pulled shut from the outside, so you had to combine a rather loud banging with the right positioning of house keys, followed by frantic locking action, to get it safely closed. It's been like that for years. It also is a good way to trap keyless friends into the house, provided they're responsible enough to not want your television to get stolen. Or, you know, there to play video games and thus in need of said television later.

 Boyfriend and his dad tried repairing it with different screws several times, but the holes were stripped and the screw-holes in the doorplate were only so thick. The door handle stubbornly refused to attach to the door.

Last night, I pretty much lost my patience and looked up how to fix it. I knew you could fix the problem on spinning wheels by narrowing the hole with one or two toothpicks, but we don't have any toothpicks and the door isn't a spinning wheel. The internet in all its omniscience said the principle was the same nonetheless, and matches with their heads trimmed off would work, too.

So we got out some matches, trimmed them to fit the loose hole, and forced the screw back in. Wonder of wonders, it stuck. Huzzah!

I tried pulling the door closed and--the other hole turned out to be loose as well. We just hadn't noticed before because the first one was so loose it really didn't matter. This hole hadn't been widened and deepened by other screws as much, so the matchsticks we'd prepared were too long. Some more trimming, poking them in with a screwdriver and screwing later, the door was fixed. It now closes with less violence and no gymnastics concerning keys required.

Grand total of time spent actually fixing the door: maybe five minutes. Cost: three matches out of a box from a 12-pack of matches costing less than one euro. Effort and skill required: knowing which end of a screwdriver to use and basic hand-eye coordination. Lessons learned: Boyfriend keeps forgetting we have a phillips-head screwdriver and we could have done this ages ago. And by ages I mean last month, when I chucked my boxes of matches and birthday candles under the sink.

All we have to do now is hang up the rest of the dark laundry, wash the coloreds, the bedsheets, hang those up to dry and clean the floors. And then we can be lazy for another week. Or make apple cake.