I live in an older home. It’s solidly built with little bonuses like glass doorknobs. I love those doorknobs. I have been reluctant to replace them even after they stop working. The downstairs bathroom knob has been especially troublesome. You can’t turn it too far to the right or you have to “unwind” it. It’s one of those little tricks you learn from living in your home for a while.
Well, my Thanksgiving party was going pretty well. Lots of food. Lots of laughter. Lots of noise. So much laughter and noise, in fact, that we did not notice the sound of Grandpa Ron trapped in the downstairs bathroom. Eventually niece Ella went and found Cyberspace Sarah and said, “That man is pounding on the bathroom door. He can’t get out.”
And that is how we discovered that the lock had finally broken with Grandpa on the inside.
At first, Brent just tried pounding him out. Nothing. Then he took the doorknob off. Nothing.
Fortunately, another one of the great little quirks of my older home is that the laundry chute goes from my bedroom past the bathroom downstairs where there is another opening.
Grandpa took off the hinges and with some more artful pushing . . .
Grandpa was freed . . .
He was our own Chilean miner miracle.
There’s never a dull moment at my house.