They say that problems come in threes. In some situations here, they come en masse, but selectively. Some years back, every battery in the house went dead in a matter of weeks, including the battery in the truck and lawn tractor and the remote control for the TV. I was buying batteries in bulk. Before that, it was light bulbs. I think I replaced 37 light bulbs, one after another. I felt doomed to darkness.
Right now I am having a problem with doors. In damp weather, the living room door to the deck swells and, although it can be opened, it screeches like a banshee. The coming of summer solved that. Both sheds have storm doors to protect the inner doors from the elements. This seemed to anger the elements because during a particularly bad wind, one storm door was pulled open and then ripped from its hinges. Fortunately, the glass did not break. That door is now awaiting attention inside the shed, and the other door will just have to fend for itself. I'd been having trouble with the screen door from the bedroom to the deck; it was getting harder and harder to close. The bedroom door is so convenient when I'm here at my desk because it's only a step away when the cats want in and out. They want in and out a lot. Last week the screen door fell apart, pieces clanging to the deck. Does this happen to everyone? I was able to get it together enough to pull it shut and lock it tight. Now cats and I have to go through the laundry room door. The drop-down door to the Silkies' Taj is falling off. It makes a little ramp for those kids to go in and out, but now they could fall through the crack when it's open. The most recent failure was when I was leaving to take Doug to the rescue lady. Honestly, I could hardly believe that the handle to the passenger door was falling off. That couldn't be happening, but it was. I could see where a hex-head screw had fallen out but, since it was gone, had no idea what size was required. The nice man at the auto parts store had no idea, either. His catalog did not even list a replacement piece. Evidently this is not a common problem. When I asked for a Plan B, he was kind enough to come out and take a look and actually found a screw that fit and fixed the door. He felt heroic and I felt gratitude. Pete already fixed the door to the milking room. This house has nine doors, not counting screen doors. The truck has three doors. Between the sheds and the barn and feed room there are seven doors (counting the one already fallen). I'm not holding my breath.
One door I will have no trouble opening today is the front door when Dolly arrives.