The To-Do List

By Loretta Morris

After my two children finished college and were launched into society successfully with no real probability of returning home to live, I realized that my big empty nest was too big and too empty for just me. So after a few weeks of searching I found myself the new owner of a somewhat smaller, but very nice townhome.

It was beautiful, and just what I needed. Plenty of room for me and just enough space for guests and possibly, someday, visiting grandchildren.

There are always projects that need attention when you move into a new home, so I started a To-Do list. There were a few things that I thought I’d be able to fix inexpensively which focused on my bedroom’s walk-in closet:

1. The outdated shiny brass handle on the closet door needed to be replaced. I preferred a sleeker design in brushed nickel, not the curved style with the curlicue at the end.

2. The fluorescent light in that closet sometimes took as much as ten minutes to pop on, and would have to be repaired. At the home improvement store, surrounded by a knot of serious, older men in orange aprons, I learned all about something called a ballast. It must be something very important because the word ballast was used many, many times during their meeting of the minds. There was head shaking and nodding going on simultaneously, but all I heard was “Hmmm, blah blah, blah, ballast, blah, blah, hmmm, ballast.” I just wanted the light to pop on.

3. And finally, the closet lacked wall hooks, so I had no place to hang my robe when getting dressed. I am not a throw-things-on-the-floor kind of girl, and this task was a snap. No need for a team of well-meaning home improvement gentlemen. The stick-on type of hooks would work just fine. I slapped a hook on the wall, and hung my oversized terry bathrobe up by its sturdy loop. Five seconds after I walked away I heard a soft thwump and found my robe, with the hook still attached to the loop, on the closet floor.

              Ok, fine. I needed help. That weekend my brother Tom said he would stop by and change the door handle, install a few good hooks in my closet, and deal with the ballast situation. Great. What could go wrong?

              Here’s what could go wrong.

              I was taking a shower about a half hour before Tom was due to arrive when I realized I had left the front and back doors wide open. It was a beautiful day, and I wanted to let the warm spring breeze come through the house, but now I was concerned that he might come in while I was in the shower. I quickly finished and put on my robe.

With my underwear in hand, I headed to my closet to pick out clothes for the day. Because of the previous day’s hook failure, I tossed my robe across the room onto my bed. No way would I let it fall to the floor.

Then, steadying myself carefully against the closet door, I stepped into my underwear. With only one leg through, I realized I had wedged the fabric of my panties into the curlicue of the door handle tighter than the sheets on a freshly made hotel bed. I pulled. I tugged. I was stuck.

I had to think fast. I was firmly affixed to the door handle by one leg hole, 99% naked, the front door was open, my robe was hopelessly out of reach, and my brother was just minutes away. I would have to shuffle with the attached door bumping and closing behind me to grab some clothes from inside the closet. I snapped on the light, but, of course, it did not “pop on” because of the ballast, so I was now in complete darkness, unable to see or reach any clothes and still hopelessly jammed into the curlicue.

And then, the unthinkable. The doorbell rang. Since I couldn’t answer, in a few moments I heard Tom clomping up the stairs, tool box rattling, and calling my name.

After a very confusing conversation through the closed closet door, I cracked it open an inch, stuck my hand out and he gave me a pair of scissors. Then, Presto! the light finally popped on, I cut myself out, and quickly pulled on some clothes.

I now have hooks. And a modern looking door handle. And a working ballast (even though I still don’t know what it is exactly.) But I am much more careful about locking my doors when I shower.