Our garage door was on its last legs - or better put, its last hinges. However you say it, the large piece of lumber was dying a slow death and had been operating in a temperamental mode for the last century, or at least the better part of a year. We were well aware of the door's condition, but did what most people do when confronted with a similarly terminal situation.
We ignored the problem.
Then, last week, things became dire. Two of the door's rollers snapped off their track and the beast hung in an ominous and warped fashion, threatening to fall and crush something important like a vehicle or my head.
The inevitable was upon us. Our future included a new garage door and credit card bill.
I was less than thrilled. Large purchases for large items like this are the opposite of exciting, which makes them unexciting. Replacing an item doesn't get you anything more than what you started with in the first place. You are forced to spend a lot of money to remain status quo.
Still, shopping is shopping and can't be all bad. I set out in search of a garage door - online. I figured the basic version would do us just fine. I picked out a plain-Jane model, sent the specs to my husband's high-IQ phone and figured we were good to go. How much could a person possibly want from a garage door?
I was about to find out.
Turns out there are numerous upgrades too numerous to mention here that one may include with one's garage door. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: each upgrade equates to an upgraded price tag.
My husband and I decided to venture to the home improvement store to examine the product face to door and hopefully complete an order.
Once there, we discussed insulation. If you have an insulated door, your garage can be toasty warm during cold snaps. My husband explained how important it is to avoid hypothermia during the time it takes to exit the house and enter the car. I estimated that to be about 10 seconds tops but didn't say so out loud - at least I tried not to. In the end, we gave a thumbs-up to insulation with an R-value so large it makes me shiver.
The next option involved windows. To see or not to see, that was the question. Since my house has windows, and I'm more of a house person than garage person, I didn't perceive the need.
My husband's desire for windows was transparently obvious. "They let in natural light," he said.
The basic window package included small rectangular panes along the top of the door. My husband wanted different windows in a different location, which constituted use of the "C" word, and I'm not referring to "cheap."
"Do you want to get a price on custom windows?" the young salesman asked.
"Yes," my husband said without hesitation.
I gave him a look, but he was too enamored with window options to feel my pain.
The cost for simply moving the windows to a different location put us beyond our budget. I don't think my husband noticed.
I was nearing the breaking point (sort of like my garage door). Before the guy I married could utter a phrase akin to, "We'll take them," I glared at him and through clenched teeth said, "It's. A. Garage. Door."
Because we have been married for lots of years, he caught the inflection in my voice and innuendo in my words. We opted for the basic window package.
We'd yet to tackle torsion spring choices, door openers, headroom requirements, panel design, door color and myriad other upgrades that got my head spinning.
By dawn the next morning (or maybe the day after) we'd hashed out everything and placed an order. The poor sales guy dozed off a couple times in the process. As we left the store, my husband was grinning. I suppose because of all the options he'd optioned. I let out a long awaited sigh. In part because I was tired, and in part because I realized the inevitable truth: If you give a guy a garage door...
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
We ignored the problem.
Then, last week, things became dire. Two of the door's rollers snapped off their track and the beast hung in an ominous and warped fashion, threatening to fall and crush something important like a vehicle or my head.
The inevitable was upon us. Our future included a new garage door and credit card bill.
I was less than thrilled. Large purchases for large items like this are the opposite of exciting, which makes them unexciting. Replacing an item doesn't get you anything more than what you started with in the first place. You are forced to spend a lot of money to remain status quo.
Still, shopping is shopping and can't be all bad. I set out in search of a garage door - online. I figured the basic version would do us just fine. I picked out a plain-Jane model, sent the specs to my husband's high-IQ phone and figured we were good to go. How much could a person possibly want from a garage door?
I was about to find out.
Turns out there are numerous upgrades too numerous to mention here that one may include with one's garage door. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: each upgrade equates to an upgraded price tag.
My husband and I decided to venture to the home improvement store to examine the product face to door and hopefully complete an order.
Once there, we discussed insulation. If you have an insulated door, your garage can be toasty warm during cold snaps. My husband explained how important it is to avoid hypothermia during the time it takes to exit the house and enter the car. I estimated that to be about 10 seconds tops but didn't say so out loud - at least I tried not to. In the end, we gave a thumbs-up to insulation with an R-value so large it makes me shiver.
The next option involved windows. To see or not to see, that was the question. Since my house has windows, and I'm more of a house person than garage person, I didn't perceive the need.
My husband's desire for windows was transparently obvious. "They let in natural light," he said.
The basic window package included small rectangular panes along the top of the door. My husband wanted different windows in a different location, which constituted use of the "C" word, and I'm not referring to "cheap."
"Do you want to get a price on custom windows?" the young salesman asked.
"Yes," my husband said without hesitation.
I gave him a look, but he was too enamored with window options to feel my pain.
The cost for simply moving the windows to a different location put us beyond our budget. I don't think my husband noticed.
I was nearing the breaking point (sort of like my garage door). Before the guy I married could utter a phrase akin to, "We'll take them," I glared at him and through clenched teeth said, "It's. A. Garage. Door."
Because we have been married for lots of years, he caught the inflection in my voice and innuendo in my words. We opted for the basic window package.
We'd yet to tackle torsion spring choices, door openers, headroom requirements, panel design, door color and myriad other upgrades that got my head spinning.
By dawn the next morning (or maybe the day after) we'd hashed out everything and placed an order. The poor sales guy dozed off a couple times in the process. As we left the store, my husband was grinning. I suppose because of all the options he'd optioned. I let out a long awaited sigh. In part because I was tired, and in part because I realized the inevitable truth: If you give a guy a garage door...
- Jill Pertler's column appears every Thursday in the Times. She can be reached at pertmn@qwest.net.
