Twist, squeeze, and shout

I think it's safe to say that the front door of our house has been taken off and on its hinges more often than the average door, because the doorway is too narrow to accommodate anything wider than a medium-sized person carrying Barbie.


This dismays people who come to the house to deliver a large item, like the refrigerator we recently purchased. They look at the door, get out their measuring tape, shake their head, and start what has become a familiar routine:


"Ma'am..." they begin.


"I know," I say. "It's not gonna fit."


"No, ma'am," they say, with obvious relief that I am not placing any blame on them personally. "We're gonna have to take the door off."


"No problem," I say, and go back to whatever I had been doing.


The door comes off, the delivery people make several attempts to squeeze the item -- couch, refrigerator, large SUV -- inside, and the spokesman addresses me again.


"Uh, ma'am...we'll also have to remove this weatherstripping around the doorway."


"Fine," I say, barely looking up from what I am doing.


The interruptions sometimes continue indefinitely.


"Ma'am, I think we could just about make it if the refrigerator and freezer were not connected...do you happen to have a chainsaw?"


"Ma'am, it looks like we'll need to make your doorway a little wider...you kept that chainsaw out, didn't you?"


"Uh, Ma'am, how would you feel about having an extra window in the front of the house? A really BIG window?"


"You know, ma'am, we notice that this house down the street has a wider doorway...how about we just take your refrigerator in to your neighbor's, and you can just kind of go over and use it when you need to...What's that?...It would be a little awkward? Well, I suppose it would..."


"Really, ma'am, we don't think it looks too bad having your refrigerator right out here on the sidewalk...why don't you just try it for a few days, see what you think..."


We have never needed to actually leave anything out on the sidewalk, although some of the largest items have had to give up certain expendable parts, like legs. But the issues do not always end there. Sometimes after all the trauma of getting something IN the house, it will not fit in the spot we have designated for it. But usually we are on our own with this, as the service people are long gone to their next delivery -- to some house where Air Force One would fit comfortably through the doorway, were there a need, and come to rest quite easily in the living room, next to Mt. Rushmore.


The delivery people squeezed our new refrigerator into its tight little corner in the kitchen, near an unfortunately situated air duct. Only after their hasty disappearance did we discover that while technically the refrigerator door opens, extracting anything from it occurs on a hypothetical basis only.


But it is no use calling the delivery people back. I know what they'll say.


"Got a chainsaw, Ma'am?"