With blurry eyes, I made my way to the bathroom this morning but was distracted by a loud rattling sound. Taking a detour from my intended destination, I followed the sound and arrived at my daughter’s bedroom door.
“Are you stuck?” “Yes” was the reply and the frantic rattling became faster and louder. I jiggled the door knob from my side. I twisted; I pulled; I pushed. The door did not open.
“Just a minute.” .... “Rick, we need your help. I think we have to get a screwdriver.” (I head to the bathroom, feeling guilty that I can do what needs to be done while Jennifer does the potty dance behind the stuck door.) Rick gets up and tries his hand at the door. He twisted; he pulled; he pushed. The door did not open.
Rick gets a screwdriver and took off the door knob. He then took off the plate, leaving just the innards which remain in the “closed” position. He twisted; he turned; he pushed; he pulled. He then dropped the screwdriver and made a rushed trip to the bathroom—which Jennifer can’t get to. Again, I am embarrassed by our ability to do as we please.
I grabbed the screwdriver and twisted and turned the little doohicky inside. Finally, with a pressure downward and a twist to the left I heard a “poing” and the door opened.
All is well; the floor is still dry; and everyone has continued on with their normal daily routines.
Good morning, everyone!
-- ~ Debbie, Canada (https://www.facebook.com/DebbiePribeleENJOConsultant)