madbaker | I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.

We have new doors! Also repaired window sashes and unstuck windows (most of ours were painted shut by the previous owner).

Our 2-flat Edwardian was extensively redone before we bought in early January – new copper pipes, water heaters, wiring, cabinets, etc. But the place was still built in 1910-ish and, like any older building, still has much to replace and upgrade. First on our list were the front doors: they were getting steadily more difficult to open and unlock, especially ours. I guess the door being cracked through the latch plate area had something to do with that, huh?

We had the predictable difficulty of getting four people to agree on a particular door style (plain wood, two rows of three small glass panes), color (British red), and handles (brass). I mean, you know how long it can take for four people to agree on something as simple as pizza! Let alone a major and dramatic purchase such as this. But after some (ahem) vigorous discussion, bandaging our scratches, and deciding to talk to one another again, we hired a contractor to order and install them. Custom, of course, which is four times as expensive; “stock” modern doors are 4-6 inches wider than our frames. Sigh. You knew the job was dangerous when you took it, Fred.

While Dawn and I were down south at the Getty last weekend, our upstairs neighbor primed and painted the doors. He did a reasonable job, certainly much better than I would have done. Unfortunately the oil paint took a long time to fully dry (meaning there is only one coat on right now) and, confusingly enough, it also blistered in the weekend heat. So our doors look like they have a mild case of furniture leprosy. Still, it’s nothing that some sanding and touch-up re-painting can’t fix. Our door is still a bit sticky to open – apparently our door frame is about 10 degrees out of plumb!

I prefer to call it “personality”. Yeah, that’s the ticket.

But despite all that, the new doors make a huge difference. The bright red really stands out from the pale green house paint, so you see the doors rather than our gate.

To mercilessly torture an analogy (I’m writing the definitive work on pain, so please be honest):

Our building is an aging dowager, who has recently had some minor cosmetic surgery, such as having her teeth bleached; it improves your first impression of her appearance, but a closer inspection reveals the underlying sagging and slumping caused by the ravages of time. She still has considerable character though, and a certain offbeat appeal.

…so, should we change the name of our building from “Bayeux House” to “Demi Moore”?