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Fixing a Squeaky HingeI think I’m having a marriage right of passage, or I’m just becoming more like my parents. Emily is out of town for a few days, so I decided to fix a squeaky hinge on the bathroom door. It was going well until I realized that the screw holes for the bottom hinge are mostly stripped. No problem, I can fix that. Now I’m just waiting for the filler to dry. Hopefully, I’ll have the door back on before the wife gets home tomorrow.

I’m trying to think how Emily would react if she came home and my attempt to be Mr. Fixit had gone sideways. For some reason, I have countless childhood memories of similar things happening to my parents to draw on for inspiration. My dad and I would often try to fix things without knowing exactly what he was doing. My mother would refer to it as a “Hank and Frank” moment as we dug ourselves deeper into trouble and then miraculously fixed things. My mom rarely screwed things up like we did, but she did (and still does) like to repaint the house whenever my dad is out of town for a few days, usually without his knowledge.

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