Is there such a thing as a quick and simple task?

It is now almost 3 in the afternoon.  Very early rising this morning as Sam was leaving at dawn to drive into the city.

Inspired by our weekend of endless chores, I thought I'd take care of one small item:  ordering a screened in panel to put in the front door.

The glassed panel looked like it could be easily removed--four little latches appeared to hold it in.  My plan was to spin the latches, slip out the panel--and bring it to the glazier down the road.  George and the screen man at Home Depot had both told me that I could order a screen custom made at Sasse--which turns out to be a glazier just around the corner on Rte. 206.

I thought this would be a quick and easy assignment.

On Saturday when Sam and Sarah had gone in search of a screen for the upstairs room, they regretted that they hadn't just brought a similar screen with them.  To avoid such regrets, I decided that rather than worrying about exact measurements and complicated explanations (all our problems are so ancient, and perhaps I am such a bad explainer, it is often difficult to describe our exact needs), I would just pop the panel into the car--and all measurements could be done at Sasses.

Panel removed!

Ha!  The first task was that easy popping out of the panel.  What was I thinking.  The little clasps could barely move.  Decades of paint had sealed the insert to the frame.  Although I had thought the panel would slip out on the interior side--it barely moved in either direction.  I wasn't sure if I was pushing hard enough--and was of course worried that if I pushed too hard, I could end up breaking glass, frame, who knows what else.  Instead, I began chipping away with a razor edge--it was sealed tight--and to get to all edges, I ended up having to remove various guards and hinges--needed all kinds and sizes of screw-drivers as there was no attempt to have uniformity and any of the screws holding various things in place.  There was some movement in the top--but I began to fear that there was some other sealant of which I wasn't aware. I was climbing on and off a chair, and feeling pretty dopey.  It was hot and muggy--and the easy no-brainer task looked to be stretching into the afternoon.  But--glory be--after strategic pushing and pulling and endless rounds of slicing through ancient paint, the panel popped out.  Hooray!

At that very moment Lisa called from their island campsite in Parry Sound, Ontario.  I hadn't spoken with her since I'd left Venice--but rather than give a full report, I was delighted to have an audience to report my triumphant removal of the door panel  Oh--I was one satisfied and smug home-repairer.

But my task was not yet completed.  I just had to pop the panel into the car--drive the few minutes to Sasse--make my order--and I'd be done.

I just don't have a very well developed spatial sense (Let's say that's what the problem was).  The panel was too big by far for the trunk--but it did look like it could slide easily into the back seat.  At least, it looked like that to me.  And it was pretty close.  I longed for another pair of hands, or longer arms, another set of eyes.  I figured I could make my order without dragging in the door--but it really looked like it might fit.  Of course, I didn't remember how to put down seats, expand space, etc., but I referred to the Owner's Manual, carefully stashed in the glove compartment.

Door in car

I removed head rests, put front seats forward, lowered back seats, opened back windows as much as possible (they don't open all the way).  No permutations worked--there was always an obstacle--the doors, the container between the front seats, the rear window, the roof, the floor, the front seats.  What a pity the door didn't bend--I was convinced it would fit if I could just get the right angle--and indeed--after almost an hour (or maybe more--it felt like days but probably wasn't)--I did manage to wedge the door into the back seat and successfully close both doors. 

On arriving at Sasse, I'd thought perhaps we should just measure it in the car--but realized it would be easy to put it back as long as I had help--so we brought it into the shop.  I thought that having th piece would mean I wouldn't have to worry about precise measurements and they could just replicate it with screens, i.e. build a wooden frame and put a screen in--and I'd then fit it into the door.    What was I thinking?  No matter.

Waiting for a screen

They basically make metal bordered screens--like window screens--they didn't need the measurements from my carefully hauled panel, but rather the exact measurements of the hole in the door.  Was all my labor for naught?  The panel did have to be removed--and I suppose it made sense to bring it in--but who knows?  In any case, pretending I'd performed an important task, I left the panel in the shop, returned home, measured the door--30 3/16 X 56 1/4 inches and swept up the mess of paint chippings on the porch. It--whatever it might be--will probably be ready by Thursday or Friday--providing a whole new range of problems to solve.