If scorching temperatures warp the sliding glass door, such that it won’t slide open anymore, there’s no need to run out the front entrance, scale the fence to the side yard, and risk ramming splinters into your thighs. You’ll just be disappointed. You’ll discover that the gnome house you thought you saw in the backyard is really just a mushroom, probably poisonous.
Instead, think the problem through, like this: I’m supposed to leave on a rare date with Nate here soon, and if he discovers that the sliding glass door won’t open, he’ll try to fix it “in less than ten minutes—that’s all it will take,” and there goes the date. Since the door is most likely just swollen from the heat, when the temperatures go back down, the door will work again. The problem will fix itself. No need to tell Nate.
However, Nate, on the way to the date, will stop by the kitchen and look out in the backyard. He won’t see the gnome house you thought you saw earlier, but he will see what looks like a rabbit eating the lettuce. (It’s not a rabbit, though. It doesn’t even look like a rabbit. It’s probably my purse, which I most likely dropped while scaling the fence. Why would I have my purse while scaling a fence? That’s where I keep my iPhone, for snapping pictures of gnome houses. You never know when you’ll see one.)
When Nate couldn’t get the door to open, he looked pretty upset. He looked determined to fix that door, and I realized that we weren’t going anywhere until that door was fixed, so I offered some suggestions, based on my experiences opening stubborn lids of jars, when Nate is not around:
–Get the grippy jar opener thing out—maybe the handle’s just stuck?
–Run the whole thing under hot water.
–Find the “lid” and pound on it until it bends in just the right way, and then it comes unscrewed from there.
I also thought about greasing up the base of the door, but Nate had other ideas that involved a Phillips-head screwdriver and YouTube videos. I took the following notes:
First, in the “discovery” phase of the repair session, Nate pounded the door in various places to discover where or how it might be stuck. Then, he started to loosen some of the screws at the base of the door, finding just the right combination of righty-tighty-lefty-loosey to make the door slide open. Sometimes, it looked like it would fall right off its hinges, it slid so fast—like Space Mountain except with scenes of potted plants and vegetables zipping by. Other times, it just bumped along, getting hung up somewhere along the way between the sloping hill and the garden hose on the other side.
I’m not sure which YouTube videos Nate watched. There are quite a number of them online. (Apparently sliding glass doors give people a lot of trouble.) But thanks to the videos and the Phillips-head screwdriver, we still made our date.
Afterwards, we retreated to the patio, where we sipped drinks in the warm, warm setting sun—wondering if it was possible for a sliding glass door to warp, from the inside—wondering if we’d ever see our living room again.
Your Turn: What is something you are able fix quickly if it breaks?