[HOUSE AND HOLMES] Water You Up to In 2018

Rob Loos, Ledger Columnist

We have a small 1920’s era shower cabinet in the corner of our master bathroom. Over the years the door has bent a bit and now doesn’t close all the way. Last year we installed a new showerhead that generates a lot more “spray.” I thought this was a good thing, until it created a film-noir like fog that masked the water droplets splattering onto the broken shower door, leaking to the bathroom floor and soaking the bathroom rug.

I went about solving this problem the way I do with most home improvement issues—I ignored it for as long as possible, hoping that the leak would fix itself.

I also headed for the gym and showered in the locker room. Initially my wife was thrilled that I was exercising, until she figured out that I was “gyming” simply to avoid the leaky shower door. My endorsement deal as shining example of middle-aged Lou Ferrigno manhood was revoked.

I took my New Year’s resolution—to try and figure improvements out on my own without having to rely on calls to my contractor pal Dave—seriously. I tried my best to come up with viable solutions like taking baths instead of showers or using a ton of perfume and aftershave like they did in our great-great-grandparents’ era.

My wife didn’t like those ideas, nor did she like a constantly damp bathroom, so I headed to the home supply store.

At first they suggested I buy a new shower door, but 20-inches is not a standard door size and it would be a “special order,” which in hardware-store lingo means, “it’s going to cost you more than you paid for your first car.”

Then they suggested that maybe I should “rubberize the seal,” which sounded to me like something bad you do to a poor harmless sea mammal. When I returned home with a tube of caulk, my wife proposed that maybe this was too big of a problem for me to solve alone.

So I did what I always do, I got a rubber duck and headed for the bath. Actually, I phoned my brilliant contractor friend Dave.

I reached him as he was finishing a backyard playhouse for his son with a great view of the ocean—maybe I could live there? I told him about my situation and he asked, “Do you have a metal shower door catch with a white nylon tip?” I looked and that seemed to be the case. “There are two small screws on either side; you want to square up the latch and tighten the screws, and you should be fine.”

I followed Dave’s advice, the shower door closed correctly and there were no more leaks, which once again goes to prove: “If I can’t figure it out—and I know that I can’t—my friend Dave can.”

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