See the door behind Frankie? (Just ignore the color samples to the right.) That is the swinging door between our kitchen and our dining room. And I wanted it to go.
Though it’s a beautiful door, and quite possibly the original in the home, it was getting in my way. It was put there back in the day when people didn’t want their guests to be exposed to the messy kitchen while entertaining. But, in this day of great rooms and open-flows, it wasn’t working for me. And it blocked some valuable wall space where I could hang some pictures. However, taking down this door isn’t as easy as it would seem. It’s held up by pins that seem pretty content just where they are. After a little google research, I discovered that all you need to do is remove the 4 screws in the bottom plate. Then pull out the door. Easy enough.
Except, I found 5 screws. One on each corner. And one in the middle.
And there was something peculiar about that middle one. He was shorter and fatter than the others. I took him out anyway. Seemed to make sense. Clearly, I was wrong.
I closed the door. And a geyser shot up at me, spewing oil. At first it freaked me out. Then I found it somewhat entertaining. Every time I swung it, a little more shot into the air like I was some tycoon striking the big one back in the days of yore.
It took me a few minutes to decide that this hole was there to have oil put in, not to be taken out. It would make sense as to why this door swings so easily after all these years. I quickly did some more google work, and while I couldn’t find a thing about oil shooting from a swinging door base, I did find quite a few posts about people trying to get their swinging doors out. And then more people telling them they were crazy to take away such an integral piece of their home’s historic architecture. I started to feel guilty. And, without hesitation, I went back down to the door, put its screws back in, and gave it another swing. Between its stubbornness to come out, the spewing oil and the online-stranger guilt trips, the door wasn’t going anywhere. That’s probably how it was meant to be.
Swinging door, 1. Me, 0.