Tag Archives: doors

Products for a pandemic lockdown.

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The first one supposedly has merit in the fact that you won’t have to touch strange doors.

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Unfortunately, (or fortunately depending on your point of view) it also looks like a kinky sex toy.

Next is an electric wine aerator.

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Because Covid has us all at the end of our ropes and we don’t have enough patience left to let our reds breathe on their own.

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A wobble cushion to activate my core?

Just, no.

Isn’t that what husbands are for?

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Frozen shot glasses. Now we’re talking.

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I don’t bore easily and can’t see the need for one of these…. but our friends had one at their lakefront camp last year and said it was a riot.

Ya know, if frying insect life to a crisp is your thing.

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Operation clean out has begun.

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The construction and finish work on the Barn Mahal was finally done, so it was time for a major clear out.

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Giant piece of paint covered glass from the kitchen porch he replaced 5 years ago… which he’ll never use again but must be saved?

Check.

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The large wagon wheel frames my girlfriend gave me that I wanted to use as barn decoration?

Check.

But make no mistake, clear out does not mean throw out.

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It means stuffing things in every possible nook and cranny he can find.

Over the cars in the garage? Yes.

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In the newly remodeled and previously almost empty baby barn?

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Of course.

In the tiny room on the side of the wood shed?

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Naturally.

In the wood shed itself?

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Why not.

Those frameless doors he picked up at the dump because they’re free and he could?

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In between the motorcycles and covered with a dirty towel is the perfect spot.

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And lastly, things migrated upstairs in the barn itself.

Because, you know…. there’s soooo much room up there.

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And people wonder why I drink.

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The end is in sight. I think…

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A few more windows needed trimming…

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Which meant a lot more measuring, cutting and cursing…

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Why the cursing?

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Because the last window was not what you… or any semi sober person… would call square.

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Oops.

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Cover the gap with quarter round, trim…. then call it good and move on to the porch door.

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Yes, the porch is my domain … so the porch door has a seasonally appropriate wreath. Man cave be damned.

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Trimming this slapped together frame for a door that came from the dump proved challenging.

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And yes, the language got as colorful as the wreath.

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But it was only when the husband looked down…

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And realized the floor moulding should meet the vertical door trim… not the other way around… that he knew he had some tinkering to do.

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But viola!

Adjustments were made and everything that needed to be trimmed was finally trimmed.

Is this the end of the Barn Mahal interior construction?

Only time will tell.

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More stuffing.

 

When you’re doing a lot of stuffing?

You need a lot of stuff.

 

 

Truck loads full of stuff.

 

 

Stuff that needs to be dragged across the porch….

 

 

Through the little door… (because the big doors are temporarily blocked)

 

 

Stuff that has to be carefully maneuvered past all the other indoor stuff….

 

 

And stored amongst useless piles of other stuff.

(Yes, that’s a giant metal chicken. It was a gift I can’t seem …or want… to find a place for.)

 

 

Once the stuff was in the building, stuffing resumed.

Although there was a bit too much stuff in the way.

So stuff was moved from here..

 

 

To here….

 

 

But then that stuff was in the way of the temporarily blocked doors and it’s stereo.

Stuff blocking the power button?

No problem.

 

 

A pool cue reaches over the massive pile of stuff.

Feel free to roll your eyes.

Can someone please explain the logic?

 

Because I’m a mere woman and not able to comprehend the genius that is the male mind.

 

 

I understand the need to temporarily seal up the big barn doors for winter. If the husband is going to spend all that money for a heat pump, we don’t want all the lovely warm air escaping. So a few insulated foam boards, some tape and call it good… right?

(Please remember the key word is temporary. This will be important later on.)

In my previous post I shared pictures of the frame, the double layer of foam boards, the plywood, and the finishing border.

 

 

And yes, those are two antique safes that weigh the combined equivalent of a small elephant herd.

 

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Do they open?

Well, they would if my husband had the combinations… which he doesn’t.

Good times.

But back to the doors. The temporary doors that he keeps assuring me will be easily removed.

When I went out there the other day?

This:

 

 

Yes.

 

 

There is now a shelf with an old stereo mounted on the temporary doors.

 

 

And quite high up on the temporary doors I might add.

 

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High enough so yours truly can’t reach the power button… which may or may not have been intentional.

So please help me out with the male logic of this.

In the event we need to open the barn doors… because you know, they’re doors and that’s kind of their thing…. we will need to:

 

1. unscrew the shelf brackets

2. remove the shelf

3. unhook the speaker wires

4. take down the stereo

5. remove the border frame

6. remove the plywood

7. remove the double layers of foam boards

8. remove the inner frame

 

Does this sound temporary to you?

Because my female brain is having  a hard time reconciling this kind of temporary.

 

Because when Rustoleum says red? They mean red.

 

Every few years it’s time to repaint the bulkhead doors.

 

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They’re metal and tend to see a lot of abuse.

Rain, snow, and baking sun all take their toll… and since the husband disappears every time the paint brushes come out?

 

 

The job falls to me.

I usually go out with some sandpaper to smooth and remove the flakes… but this spring the husband bought an old sander at a yard sale. Old.. with a capital O.

So he tossed it at me and said it would be much easier than my sandpaper.

 

 

From the look of the cord it was from the 1950’s…. and I think that was the poundage as well because just lifting it hurt my wrist. So when he came back to check my progress? I was using the sandpaper again.

Which… because he’s a man and can never be wrong… made him determined to prove his $5 purchase was worth while.

 

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He got no argument from me.

I stood back, nodded sagely and mumbled yes dear, that’s so much easier dear, at appropriate intervals.

Momma didn’t raise no fool.

 

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He sanded that baby from top to bottom.

 

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Inside and out… even though I rarely paint the interior.

BTW, if you search Google images for power sander memes?

 

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Anyway… when we moved into this house, the doors were painted a barn red so that’s what I’ve always repainted them.

Until this year, when I couldn’t find my usual brand of metal paint in barn red and went with Rustoleum’s Regal Red.

 

 

It was a bad idea.

Very bad.

Really, really bad.

Because when Rustoleum says red?

 

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They mean red!

Fire engine red.

Candy apple red.

Holy Crap that’s redRED!

It’s positively blinding.

 

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On the bright side, the doors do now match my hanging geranium.