My front door is broken

My front door is broken. Okay, technically the lock is broken (the dead bolt to be precise), but it has the same effect.

Ever since my father-in-law put weather stripping on the door, it has been a royal pain to close. It is a two hand maneuver, with one hand holding onto the knob and pulling towards you while the other attempts to turn the key in the lock. This means putting down whatever groceries or cup of coffee you may be holding to enter or exit the house, which is really just a minor nuisance, but a nuisance none the less.

Last night the lock officially broke. I’m assuming all the tugging on the door and turning of the key while there was still distinctly too much pressure on the locking mechanism finally busted something, because now I can’t even open the door from the inside (as in turn the dead bolt). This first occurred head yesterday morning when I couldn’t actually get out of the house to leave for work and had to call my husband down to unlock the door for me.

The lock then reared its ugly head last night, when my husband stumbled home near midnight after a friendly game of poker, and was unable to turn the lock from the outside (read: get in the house). He hollered for assistance, but between my having been roused from a dead sleep and my status as a generally weak person (per the morning’s lock incident), I was completely unable to help. Hubby, who was drunkenly convinced I was not opening the door on purpose, was forced to walk around the house and enter from the back door – no great distance, but not what one is going for when intoxicated on a “school night.” The pregnancy mood/need for sleep kicked in at that moment and I briefly slipped into a “why for fuck’s sake would I simply not unlock the door for you? because you know how much I’m enjoying not getting back to bed right now and all…” and then I pulled my shit together, apologized for the bitch explosion, asked how poker went (he didn’t win but had fun), and promptly returned to bed. It’s amazing how little things almost become big things these days. I don’t know why but I went from “oh good, your home” to blind fury in seconds flat and at no worthy provocation. Thank god my husband is more level headed than I am.

I have officially decided that the first bit of baby prep we need to do is get a new front door, or at least replace the lock and remove the weather stripping. There’s no way I’m putting up with this while holding a sleeping (or worse, wailing) infant.

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