Question: What would I do if I was in the cabin, and a bear busted in through the door?
Current Answer: Try to chop it with a kitchen knife and then die, probably.
This is not satisfactory. I need a back door. The tricky bit is that my available floor-to-ceiling-of-loft back wall space is quite short (just under six feet) so a standard door will not fit. Standard is 80 inches, and I need a 70-inch door. Quelle probleme!
After having consulted with Lowe's, I was quoted somewhere between 350 and 500 dollars for a custom made door with windows. Apparently, when it comes to custom-ordering doors, "pardon my language, but they bend us over." Hmmm. I decided that custom ordering a back door from Lowe's for my cabin was cost-prohibitive, and we should investigate other avenues. Thankfully, Mom remembered a solid-core wooden door (meaning it wasn't hollow, though the interior of the door was pressboard (my nemesis)) hiding out in the basement. It had been left over from the building of their house 20-something years ago, so we dug it out. It was firm and smooth, like I image Channing Tatum's posterior to be. That's a door I can get behind.
I wanted a window in the new door so I could see, in running from the first bear, if there were any more bears coming in from the back. You know, to determine if I needed to grab more knives. And guess what. Dad has windows too.
My parents' house is a veritable stockpile of various household implements. My dad saves anything and everything that might possibly be useful someday. (Yes, there is a word for this tendency, but we won't use it here. Let's just call it... resourceful and sentimental?) Therefore, when I need something, my dad can usually come up a solution from some dark corner of the basement or back yard. Doors? Got 'em. Windows? There's a pile under a tarp out by the old playhouse. There's a stainless steel sink bowl under the back porch, and several antique cast iron fireplace fronts in the basement that he took out of a soon-to-be-demolished house when he was 12. He even rustled up an old chemical toilet that I can use in the bathroom while I save up for a nice composting toilet. I am a fan of this only because I am a fan of not spending money. You may be asking yourself, 'why doesn't she just install a septic system and put in a normal flushing toilet so I won't be freaked out and confused when I go to visit her?' The answer is this: I think it will be hilarious to have to show people how to use the toilet. Maybe I'll make a little instructive video to send you before you come over for the first time. So there's something to look forward to. And also, septic systems mean digging big holes, and I am too old and tired for that.
We cut the bottom off the door to make it 70 inches tall. Then we picked out a window from the pile in the yard and cut a hole in the middle of the door to fit it. Dad sanded the door and I stained it. It looks unusual, but excellent. And the large window will give me a good view of the (yet unbuilt) back deck. I can't wait to chop a huge hole in the back wall (chopping is more fun than digging) and install it. Them bears is gonna get a face full of knives if they ever try to sneak up on me.
Afternote:
I remember attending a karaoke session at the clubhouse across the lake once upon a time wherein creepy adult neighbors sang inappropriate songs and made everyone (i.e. me) uncomfortable. One man sang "Back Door Man" and I was super freaked-out because it talks about little girls, and also I thought it was about butt sex. I was a pre-teen at the time. How did I know about butt sex? Anyways, turns out, the song's about having an affair with a married woman. Which is also gross. In any case, the words "back door" have never meant the same to me since. I apologize.
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