Replacing my beautiful wooden screen doors today with actual storm doors. Metal ones with slide-open windows and locking latches and far more quality than my country-farmhouse shabby chic painted doors that never matched the house style at all. It's too modern and austere and I was still in my Prairie Victorian stage, I guess.
Next week will be twelve years here in the Pacific Northwest. Twelve years on the wrong coast, but here we are.
But storm doors meant two trips to the hardware store, replacing all of the brick moulding around the doors too (all of them, not a one was exempt) and also a weird discussion, complete with procreate for visual charts, in the aisle of a Home Depot while we tried to figure out how to make it work. Oh, and latches for each door that are patent-pending that added almost a hundred bucks to each door, which was funny but also not.
And we got all the stuff but now it's dark and it's raining and we've missed our chance to actually do the work.
This is good, this is normal. This is how we roll.