For the Love!

Number FOUR people. That's right. That, right before your eyes is our 4th door knob since we moved into our house seven months ago. Either door knobs aren't made like they used to be or we've got door knob issues. It could be a combo of both. The story begins one early morning whist I'm bathing very sick rsv baby to help comfort him. I hear crunching snow outside the window. I pause waiting for a stranger to come crashing through the window thinking of strategies of getting out of the house in a matter of seconds while naked (yes I was in the bath too) and getting my other two sleeping children out of bed and to the van safely) nothing too logical came before my pounding heart is calmed with Dan's voice, "can you let me in the back door? I can't get in the front". I soon learn He got out the front door, forgot his keys and could not get back in the front door. I let him in and went about my day not thinking again about the incident until I hear a knock at the door. I naturally go to open the door... and then try again..and again trying a little more violently each time. Sheer physical force is going to prevail. I'm getting more desperate by the moment-- after all I see through the window part of the door she's got treats. The claustrophobia is starting to set in. "I can't open the door," I shriek through the glass window while doing a fake giggle as an attempt to masque my true feelings. Panicked because I'm fairly new here and I don't want to make too bad of an impression I throw on the closest shoes, burst through the back door and start trekking through the four feet of snow to the front yard. My children sitting in the front room wondering what in the world is Mom up to now. My bewildered neighbor is standing in the driveway watching as I try to gain my composure (did I mention I was still in my jammies, had about six of Chloe's hair clips in, no make up... you get the idea) and scrape the inch of snow that has attached itself to my bare feet, I apparently didn't make a good shoe choice in my haste. To make matters worse(as if that's possible) I tip over and have to catch myself by grabbing onto her. Gosh dang it though I got the treats, they were well worth the trek, the embarrassment, the minor physical damages. And the next day I got yet another door knob. Yep, take another look. Scroll up a tad and really give it it's due justice. These babies aren't given enough credit. I love you working door handle; and I love you Dan for fixing yet another one for me.