Panic! The bedroom door is jammed!

I left home last Friday while our house-cleaner was still doing her magic with the house. The last three instructions I gave her before going to work were: (1) do NOT take the box of comicbooks upstairs again as it gave me itches, (2) take my pillows to the clothes line and let the sun kiss the foul odor from it goodbye, and (3) have the pillow casings washed while she's at it.

Emily, our trusty house-cleaner, goes by once a week to do her home hygiene-stroke-management-stroke-organizing voodoo all over our two storey flat. She'd leave a note for us to brood over should she have concerns. Concerns covering common house-cleaner affairs like prompting us that we're running low on laundry detergent or floor polish or when she took it upon herself and decided to throw away our trash bin as she had noticed it to be at the throes of causing mass hysteria by the new strain of highly contagious, endemic-causing bacteria-virus cross breed that she had observed for it to already contain a colony of.

Her new note below, however, made me panic not only because it said my feather-pillows were still stinky.

Wait, what does she mean by pinto ng room mo?! In a dizzying sprint I lounged three stair-steps at a time to the landing in front of my room. True enough, the door was jammed. It wasn't locked. I just couldn't get the tongue part at the side of the door to go all the way in.

I was frantic. My mind was reeling on what it is I should do. Is there a guide somewhere in the internet that could give a fully detailed instruction on how to take down a door with a jammed door knob? I was telling myself,

"Think. Think! What do you reckon would a boy scout, or McGyver, or Michael Scofield would do had any of them been in your shoes right now?!"

I tried fully twisting the door knob in both directions. That only made the knob turn a centimeter more clockwise and counter-clockwise but it still left the tongue still protruding a third of the way out. I also tried turning the knob fully in one direction as I lurched onto the door with the free side of my body with zero results other than a nearly dislocated arm. Dammit!

Sweaty and defeated, I went down to the living room and wailed my desperation out by singing the Stone Temple Pilots' unplugged version of Plush as it played from my PPC.

Ten minutes later, the person I'm sharing the flat with arrived, told him to help me with my door, and that I've tried nearly everything.

He went upstairs. I followed suit with my hands now vengefully clasped over a trusty pair of old pliers. Had anyone seen me, it would have looked as though I was plotting on killing my homie. He did the stuff I'd already done, only in a more stupidlike and clumsy manner. And there I was, hopefully thinking he'd deliver results!

My next post will cover how I managed to get the door opened with negligible or no damage to the door while leaving me a dilapidated door knob (afterwards) which somewhat tells me how strong I had become, thanks to wall climbing. To be continued...

Labels: Vertigo

posted by Fritz @ 10:24 PM