As the saga with the windows (supposed to come on Wednesday)... battling frigid weather... convincing people to show up and work... and hanging freekishly large front doors continues, I find myself taking pleasures in the simple things.Yesterday, I had a conversation in which I was asked the obvious... After you get the hinges... how will you lock those turn-of-the-century doors? cus I didn't see a lock or a key hole or anything.
well... um... good point. There is this dungeon slide lock on the inside of the doors, but that is about it. That only works if you are opening the door up from the inside. Now, I had thought about it before, but figured I would think of something later.
Later is now, by the way.
So yesterday, I lean one of the doors up against a wall and take a long hard look at it hoping to be inspired as to how I'm going to make this a reality. As I'm looking at the door, I notice that there is a subtle circular indentation on the door in the area where a lock would have been. So I grab a hammer and start banging on that area and blow by blow, year by year of paint (probably chalk full of lead) starts chipping off... slowly telling a story of time passing by while these doors remained motionless... stoic and secure. Each mild swing of the hammer revealed seasonal paintings that undoubtedly represented different eras or even different groundskeepers tending to them. As I reached the bottom layer, I saw that there was this hole that was plugged up with some foreign unnatural substance that resembled white plaster. So naturally, I bust out my drill and hundreds of attachments and go-to-town on this hole, cleaning it out and all the while boiling with excitement as to what I was uncovering. SO flash forward 40 minutes and I am slowly inching out a lock that I am confident will carbon date to the late crustaceous period.
a question inspired an investigation, which revealed a deeper understanding and appreciation.
So I am one step closer to getting these doors up.