Life’s full of little surprises at the moment, like the one I just gave myself when I tried to open the cupboard under the sink.
“Wait a minute, I’ll just get the washing up li… OH SHIT!***”
Like some latter-day Samson (without comparable hair), I’d inadvertently ripped off the baby-proof lock I’d painstakingly spend hours putting on the cupboard door. The air was momentarily blue with my frustration.
***I debated for a while whether I should represent the word ‘shit’ as ‘sh*t’. It seemed, for a moment, like that might be the most genteel thing to do. Then I noticed the ‘Bloody’ in my title and thought sod it.
Back to the cupboard under the sink… I’d just spent the last few days baby proofing the house and, boy, was it an unpleasant task.
With the prospect of Sam getting to grips with crawling firmly on the horizon, the need to protect him from himself is at the forefront of our minds.
“Just buy a few of those magnetic lock things,” said the mate that I consulted over the issue. “They’re easy to fit.”
Easy?
EASY?
Compared to what? Nuclear Fusion? I have never, in my entire existence, found anything trickier to put together – they’re like doing a Rubik’s Cube in the dark.
At first I was all GCSE technical drawing, with my ruler and pencil, marking onto the door the point where the locks should go. I drew my guide lines and attached the lock, clip and closed the door. I then pulled on the handle and door opened freely. As if the lock wasn’t there.
In the next six hours (I’m not joking) I fitted 6 locks. Each started with the pencil and ruler, then they were ditched – I may or may not have taken the ruler snapped it in half and thrown it out of the kitchen window.
The method I found most successful was as follows:
Stick the lock on.
Close the door.
Open the door.
Swear.
Try and rip the lock off.
Fail.
Get a knife and lever the lock off.
Scratch myself with the knife.
Swear again.
Get the the lock off.
Re-stick the lock, a little left from where it was originally.
Close the door.
Open the door.
Swear – louder this time.
Try and pull the lock off.
Lever it off again.
Realize the glue isn’t very sticky on the lock anymore.
Try moving it right this time – almost close the door and squint through the gap.
Stick it down.
Close the door.
Open the door again – nothing.
Swear – very loudly this time.
Kick something.
Throw the lock in the bin.
Have a walk around the garden.
Retrieve the lock from the bin.
You get the idea.
So when I’d finally got the locks to work – you can imagine how frustrating it was to accidentally pull it off again!
Now the locks are in place, I’m like a forgetful safe-cracker, with my little magnet, trying to remember where exactly the lock is on the other side of the door. It takes forever! Seriously, the makers should forget the whole ‘child safety’ element of the devices and sell them to dieters. You could starve to death as you slide the magnet around, waiting for the lock to click!
GOD! I HATE DIY!
Still Sinking…
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The Out of Depth Dad 
That sounds frustrating! Our cats loved the stairgates – safety for them!
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