It’s a good thing I found the jovial Sally again last week.
Just in time! I got locked in the garage. You, had you been staring into the
glass windows of the electrical garage door, would have found yourself doubled
over in laughter at the Calamity that was unfolding. Me, locked in the garage
in my car with no way out, felt a little less laughter. I was in the process of
leaving for an appointment (Ron having left an hour earlier just fine) and went
to push the garage door opener only to find it would raise up 3 inches and immediately
go back down to closed. Push the button again. Go up 3 inches and then back
down. Get out of the car and go to the wall control. Push the button. Go up 3
inches and then back down. I tried it on both devices about 10 times feeling quite
sure the next “push” was going to be the magic trick. Then push 11 came. Go up
3 inches and then back down. Pick up the phone and call Ron. “Hun, did you have
trouble getting out of the garage today?” “Nope.” “Of course you didn’t. Ok, so how do I my car
out?” (Me keeping Ron on speaker for him to walk me through the process).
Now in normal circumstances, this would have been a pretty
minor ordeal. However, as you well know, life for me is not quite normal these
days. Keep in mind I am in route to an appointment which I now know I will be likely
not be making. Sitting in the garage on one side is my car. On the other side
and spilling into the middle is a flatbed trailer loaded to the brim with items
going to the new house this week. Of course that obstacle now sits in the middle
directly under the “pull lever” I needed to pull in order to unhook the garage
door. We all know a door doesn’t malfunction when the garage is in its normal
state. So…I go find a ladder, on the
other side of the trailer mind you. Climb up the ladder (in a dress and ballet
shoes), lean far out to the right with one arm with holding the ladder with the
other to try and grab the cord above the trailer. Finally, while on tip toes on
a ladder, I reach and yank the pull cord to unhook it. Climb down the ladder. Head
around the trailer to the garage door and reach down to lift with all my might
without bursting a gall bladder. Quickly realize the garage door gained weight
over the holidays, and I instead need to get in Sumo stance (in a dress) and
try again. Get the garage door up about 2 feet and “clasp”, I hear the garage
door hook re-engage itself with the pull down lever. GRRRR! Let the door down.
Go back to the ladder, climb up the ladder to grab the pulley. Balance. Yank. Back
down the ladder. Back to the garage door. Sumo stance. Pull up with all my strength
as fast as I can to get it past the “hook” before it re-engages. Score! Except
now I am standing on tip toes holding a garage door that won’t stay up in the fully
open position. I’m glancing around the garage (while holding the door above my
head) to find something to “brace” the door in the open position so I can drive
my car out. Nothing. OK, pull the ladder over with my leg and get it next to
me, climb up on the ladder while holding the door. Marvel that all of my
appendages are still in tack and climb up higher on the ladder with the garage
door to get it high enough to lock in the flat position to stay fully open
instead of the curved position where it will come crashing down to the closed
position. Almost wet my pants. Climb down the ladder. Move the ladder. Grab the
cell phone (Ron is still on speaker phone) Run to car. Crank car. Drive like a
bat out of the garage in full fear of hearing the door come crashing down on
top of my car. Get outside and stare at the now empty space in the garage. Mumble
a few not so nice words in the <35 degree weather. Say to Ron “Well, the car
is still in one piece. Ok, now how am I going to get it back down?”. Get out of
car. Go back inside garage. Climb the ladder. Balance, strain, cough and
wheeze. Pull the door down (ok, so maybe I wasn’t so successful holding it and
it came down heavily on its own). Jump off the ladder. Stand inside the now
closed door garage with my car outside the garage. Go inside (all grateful the
door was unlocked since my keeps where in the car now outside the locked
garage). Out the front door. Back to car 30 minutes after the first time I tried. Notice one of my neighbors staring
at me. “Having trouble with your door?” Remind myself I need to be a good
neighbor.
The good news is the door isn’t broken, it just needed some
grease on the chain. The last time I got locked in the garage, I was on
crutches about 3 weeks after knee surgery. Also in January. But in that case
locked out of both the car and the house (my cell phone, jacket, and crutches I
had just put in the now locked car. That story may have ended with my peeing on
myself. Maybe. So there is some improvement in this most recent scenario at
least.
I'm still rather jovial. It's a miracle. It’s house closing week. Enough said.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
