The latest casualty of Ike is our garage door--although the malfunction is surely a product of the storm, the direct cause is mysterious.
Two nights ago when I arrived home the garage door was up. I pulled in. As I was retrieving my usual stuff out of the back of the car, the door went down. I assumed my husband lowered the door from the inside of the house, which I didn't expect since I had just pulled into the garage. Not so. Oh well. We locked up the garage and retired for the evening.
The next day, yet another person was at the house to advise me on storm repairs. We went to the garage to look at something. I opened the back door of the car. The garage door went up. I closed the car door. The garage door went down. The person asked me how I did that. It's a talent I didn't know I had.
Later as my son and I were leaving, I asked him if he wanted to see something funny. We went into the garage with the door down. I opened the back car door. Nothing. He looked at me expectantly. I shut the car door. The garage door went up. He asked how I did that. I opened the car door. The garage door went down.
He went to his car. I pushed the button to raise the garage door and got in my car to back out. The garage door began lowering. Oops. I stopped the car and pushed the button to raise the door. I successfully backed out this time and pushed the button to lower the door.
I called my husband to tell him that the garage door was officially malfunctioning.
That evening, I pulled into the driveway and headed toward the open garage door. It began to lower. I pushed the button to raise the door and carefully entered the garage. I opened the back car door to get my stuff. Nothing. I closed the car door. Nothing. I pushed the button to lower the door and went into the house.
Later that night, my husband went out to examine the door. I went out also. He asked me to make it happen. I opened the car door. Nothing. I shut the car door. Nothing. I walked back around the car to the side of the garage to stand by my husband. As we were standing there talking about the door, the door went up.
The door is now unplugged. I hope I can get out this morning.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Sentimental Thoughts
I sold our recliner of 18+ years last night. What I didn't know what that my son had sentimental attachments to the chair. "After all," he said, "we've had that chair since before I was born. I always thought I'd take it with me when I leave." Who knew? And then I remembered all the hours I'd spent rocking him in that chair when he was smaller than 6 feet tall. Momentarily, I wanted to tell the man no, I've changed my mind. But then we don't have room for the chair, and he has no chairs as Ike delivered four feet of water through his house. So the recliner has a new home. And I know something more about my son.
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