Did We Survive Hurricane Katrina or Not?

"Bob" and "Slim" arrived early this morning -- as seems to be their personal modus operandi. On today's schedule was installing the new front door, continuing to touch up sheetrock, and installing some door hardware here and there. There actually may be more that had been planned -- but that's actually all that got done. The problem was apparently with the front door... which was not the same size as the previous door (although it was supposed to have been). It was necessary to cut the door down - both height and width - and then do a lot of sanding and planing before the thing actually closed properly. Then an awful lot of time was spent installing the hardware and getting all of that to work as well.

I won't mince words here. I hate the new door.

I'm all for making changes for the better.... but this wasn't one... And this new door will not be welcome here long.

I'm not sure what's wrong with it. I don't think it's any one thing. I'm a little put off by the door being trimmed, first of all. I'm sure that no one else on earth would notice the tiny bit shaved off the outside of the door -- but I can see it is missing... And no no this not one of those 'Well if you didn't know it was there you wouldn't see it - you're just looking for it' things. It's off-balance to me.


Then there are the dings and misteps. The door already showed damage out of the package -- slips with sanders and dings from mishandling in transit, I suppose. I honestly thought that overall it would not be that noticeable. I was right... Really. If the rest of the door was gorgeous it wouldn't bother me. The rest of the door is not gorgeous... Especially now with the extra drilled holes and gaps around the hardware from a not-so-state-of-the-art install job. It will be caulked and touched up.. but I am totally aware of just how hard it is to get caulk to just disappear on stained wood -- and let's be logical: If these guys can't get the door up without marring it - then these aren't the guys who are going to be able to caulk the mistakes and make them blend.


Again - if the whole door was gorgeous -- I would probably get over those little problems too. But.. It's not. The staining job is terrible. Can I say that online? Yes. I can. It's terrible. TERRIBLE. The color is horrific and splotchy and mottled and oh my goodness there are actually fingerprints and places where the packaging scotch tape glue was obviously not cleaned off properly before staining.... And okay -- I've made this mistake before... but with a little elbow grease and determination... you can fix it all on your second coat! Really! But you know -- I don't think there WAS a second coat. This honestly looks like the stain just got wiped on cause that's what the can says to do -- and then the poly got slapped on and we're done. I think that's where the 'color is horrific' thing is coming from.


(Do you remember that post about how hard it is being a woman and dealing with contractors? I do. And let's just stick this little section right down there at the bottom of that post. When I mentioned that the door was looking awfully light to me for a red mahogany stain and that perhaps a couple more coats were in order -- I got the sideways smirky-look and the answer: "Stain takes differently on different wood." Blerg. Yes. I know that. Now put a couple more coats on it please... *grumble*)

Okay so this door was drying in my garage for a couple of days.. and you might wonder why exactly it only strikes me now that the stain is really irritating now that it's installed at the entrance to my home. Well, that's simple. I didn't think they were DONE. That's how this stuff goes. I think "Oh wonder when they're going to finish staining the door?" and then later in the afternoon during my flu-induced, kid-chasing, phone-answering stupor I realize they are installing said door. Did I miss something? Unfortunately not.

Add to all of this the fact that this door -- even wonderfully finished and installed is simply not as good.. as sturdy.. as old and wonderful... as our original door.

My old door was great. And my old door has not left us. I refinished it the year after Katrina -- but I had done that job in place and without a total strip down -- just a dress up to add a little holiday cheer where a lot was needed. We now have a door in place while I can take my time properly stripping and refinishing our once and future front door again. That's the bright side.

Old door interior side. Note: that's red mahogany stain. *cough cough*

Old door exterior side: Salt water is cruel.

Other than the front door fiasco... not a whole lot of other stuff was completed today. The painter guy spent the day running around the house putting another coat of paint on our baseboards - which would normally make me happier than a cat in a room full of blind baby chickens, but not today. The original plan - the one that has been discussed for three months now - was that my life and sanity would be taken into consideration during this painting and finishing process. I asked that the trim in only one room at a time be painted and finished so that I would be able to barricade that room and keep four children and two dogs out of there until the paint dried. So what happened? What happened is we're getting bum-rushed again. Dean apparently has other jobs to go to, like next week quick quick, and he instructed the painter (against my best interests) to get all the baseboards painted so they can run in here and slap down my stained shoe moulding before Friday. People in Stalingrad were perfectly 'free' to express opinions about the current regime and/or Stalin's moustache if they wished. I, likewise, am perfectly 'free' to voice my displeasure regarding the order in which things are being done around here. The folks in Stalingrad got their knock on the door in the middle of the night and a trip to the firing squad in the morning -- I simply would get to wait another three months for my baseboards to be painted or have shoe moulding installed. It's really all the same to me in my post-traumatic stress disordered way of thinking.