little things

Sometimes it is just the little things.  Like door hinges.

I'm aware I'm not completely low maintenance.  Nor am I a high maintenance diva, either.  Pleased with the simple, I now spin a post in honor of my husband who knows how to court his wife well!

All it takes, once in awhile, for admiration and ardor, is a little thing.  Because sometimes little, is just plain big.

In this tale of one woe and everlasting joy, please meet my powder room.

We have a lovely little jewel box of a powder room.  Tiny, sweet, adorable.

I still adore the wallpaper, which I used in another house and loved so much I papered it in this one too.

This is obviously not my bathroom!

Everything about it is pleasing to the eye.

Except...

Like all old houses, ours is charming.

Has quirks.

Much like a genteel and mature woman.

The "charming quirk" {which is really just a kind way to say, annoying and bothersome trait}

of our powder room is that while located conveniently in a hallway off the kitchen and family room...

its open door faces the front entryway.

Nothing says welcome like the view of a toilet!

Ugh.

Not a problem when the door is shut.

Honestly!

And for almost five years I just manically shut the door 5,000 odd times a day.

Because the passel of children living here?  

Somehow the art of actually closing the door behind them escapes their notice.

Maybe because I never let them shut their bedroom doors?

Hmmm.

In any case.

I might or might not be developing carpal tunnel wrist syndrome 

from compulsively shutting that bathroom door.

I might or might not be driving myself crazy with how much it bugs me.

Because really, it is a little thing.  And we are not going to do anything about it.  It is what it is.

Until {cue dramatic music}...

"Honey, isn't there a gadget thingy that we could put on that door to make it shut automatically behind people when they leave the powder room?"

And then {romantic music and a scene of a mountain meadow with two people rushing towards one another}...

Husband extraordinaire procures a magical hinge!

And my nemesis the door?  An enemy no more!

The door gently closes after you {or me, or a guest or child}.

What's that saying?  Don't let the door hit you?  

And that is our lovely story of a little big problem solved five years later in a sweet and extraordinarily cheap way.  A small fix reaping vast rewards!

Thanks, husband mine.  You knock my socks off and have once again won my eternal and everlasting admiration.  

Next time you are over, I'll swing the front door wide with a relaxed and joyful smile of welcome on my face.  Notice, please, how pleasing the view in our front hall.  Not a toilet in sight.

Aren't we just all that?