hinges

Last night Julie and I tried Loyly, a new-ish steam and sauna place. It's rather an odd concept, since there are no hot tubs, and it's a tiny space sandwiched in between a realty office and a restaurant in a bank of brand new buildings off Clinton St. Inside it's very vertical and airy, almost solely concrete, very sparse and Scandinavian. While I enjoyed it, I can't imagine being there for more than about an hour. There's just not that much to it. Although twenty dollars gets you three hours in the facility, it seems a bit steep for the one you're likely to spend there.

When I got home, I tried to fasten the hinges onto the built-in linen closet door-- the last step before we can actually use it. It was very difficult to figure out where and how the hinges should go, and then to try to drill into the tight corner. When I finally got the hinges on, the top one was crooked. I thought about just going with it, but so far I've been letting my perfectionism guide me on this project, so when Erik offered to try I was glad. His came out ever-so-slightly more crooked than my job. I tried one more time, and it was equi-crooked to the initial attempt. I decided to go ahead and attach the hinges to the door, which was much easier than attaching them to the wall. All was well when I opened the door. Then I tried to close it. How is it that I screwed everything in with the door closed, but now it no longer closes?

I left that mystery for tonight. Who knew becoming hinged could be so difficult?