Our garage door has a unique problem. Either that or we are just lazy home owners who do not repair it frequently enough. I went shopping in the rain one day this week, and came home with a car full of crying children and groceries. I pressed the garage door opener, and nothing happened. The bolt slipped out of the slide, again. I should really get a nut, secure it and glue it in place I thought. I tried the door next to the garage door. It was blockaded with the stroller.
I checked on the children. They were still crying. Cora was howling in undisclosed grief. Nyobi was just hungry. The hungry baby cry puts my teeth on edge. I will do just about anything to get it to stop in a peaceful manner. No matter how much logic I throw at the reflex the hard wiring wins out. I grabbed my keys from the ignition.
I stood up and closed the door in the rain. Great I thought. Now I had two screaming children in a cold car. The rain was sucking more warmth out of it, and my groceries were not refridgerated. I stormed through the drizzle to the front door. My hair was wet. My pants felt damp. I hate cold rains.
I unlocked the front door and pushed it inward. The chain caught.
Since our eldest daughter decided that running outside at weird times was appropriate behavior, I drop the security chain on the front door and leave it dropped. I never exit out the front of the house. I almost always go out through the garage. A big water drop fell off the eaves and slid down the back of my shirt. I glanced at the car. I could see Cora throwing her head back in a yowl of discomfort.
When my husband got home that evening, I handed him a piece of trim, nails and chain still attached. It took me three good kicks to get the door to open all the way. Perhaps I shouldn't send in my application to the swat team just yet.