Flakes! Flakes!

No, not as in "snowflakes". Frank Zappa fans will
know what what I mean.

I'm talking about repairmen here. The lock on my door,
like all mechanical things that somehow give us protection
from "The Great Outdoors", has sensed that NOW would be
a good time to act up. NOW, since it's freezing outside.
NOW, since a snowstorm is on the way. Sure, I can still
lock and unlock the door. The process may take up to half
an hour, but it CAN be done.

That's OK. I've got other doors. Why bitch?

Well, I happen to like using this particular door. I've
developed an affinity for entering and exiting through it.
We have a relationship, dammit. And it's being ruined by
the malfunctioning lock.

Normally, the added steps to the other door wouldn't bother
me so much . . . but ask me tonight, after the snowstorm and
all the extra shoveling!

And so I wait for a "qualified locksmith" to arrive to fix the
problem. Because - the last time I attempted to fix this same
kind of lock, I WAS successful, but it took hours because I was
learning as I went along and I didn't have the right tools. I still
don't have the right tools, and this is a door to the OUTSIDE.
Dammit, I'm not gonna spend $100 in heating oil to save $75 on
a repair guy. If only it were summer, I'd probably be whacking
away at it all afternoon with a cold brew by my side, without
a care in the world . . . hey, maybe I'd even fix the door.

Had to go there . . . didn't I?