I say rescue not because I was afraid someone would sneak in through the unlocked door and steal us blind, but because I've been through this particular doorway before.

It was a few years back, and I don't know what possessed me to try, but I went ahead with the project of attempting to install the complicated hardware myself.

The message on the package should have been my first warning, because it actually was a warning! "Instructions—NOTE: A high level of skill is required to install this product." But we guys have our own warped way of seeing such a note as a challenge, not a warning.

"They're talking about guys who can't nail two boards together," we tell ourselves. "They're not talking about me. I can handle this."

And so the project began.

"Did you read the package?" asked my wife. "Don't you think you should call a carpenter or a handyman or someone like John who knows what he's doing?"

"Don't insult me," I responded somewhat indignantly. "Don't believe everything you read. They just put that message on the package to scare off the guys who are real klutzes."

"You're point?" she snapped.

"Very funny," I said. "Listen, you just plan dinner for 5 o'clock, and we'll be shut in for the night behind our brand new front door hardware."

"Humph." She didn't exactly have a lot of confidence in my ability. But I had enough confidence for both of us.

"I still think you should call somebody," said my wife.

"Don't worry, I can handle it," I said. "It should be easy. What could go wrong?"

She just rolled her eyes.

Oh, my ... what ever possessed me?

Now, usually I know my limitations. Like, I would never attempt to repair the washing machine or the dryer next to it—I'd leave that to the Maytag repairman. I would never try to run wiring to install a ceiling fan or some such thing—I'd call an electrician. And I would never try to fix a leaky bathtub faucet, especially when the water is not only dripping from the faucet but also from that hot/cold thingy above it.

OK, well there was that one time.

The water was dripping ever so slightly, but enough to drive my wife and I crazy.

"Better call a plumber," she said.

"Right, like we need a plumber," I laughed. "It's just a little drip. I can fix it."

"Oh, please," she scoffed.

"Come on, have a little faith in me," I said. And with that I was off to Orchard Supply to buy the replacement part.

"You'll need a special tool to install this," said the clerk when I handed over the part.

"Special tool?" I said nervously.

"Relax," he said. "We have them here and we lend them out to customers. It will be easy."

With renewed confidence, a "special tool" and my new part, I headed home to complete my project.

I'm not exactly sure where that confidence came from. Plumbing is not exactly right up there on my list of talents. Watching a football game while balancing a bag of chips, a bowl of bean dip and a mug of beer—that I'm good at. But plumbing?

Two hours later, I had to call a plumber in to finish the job I'd started, and he was grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Can you fix it?" I asked meekly.

"Sure," he bellowed. "But after what you did, it's going to take me a while."

He chuckled and added, "I love it when you guys try to fix this stuff on weekends. You end up calling me anyway ... and I charge by the hour!" With that he laughed out loud and went about his work.

My wife just glared at me as she wrote out the check to pay the guy.

"What were you thinking?" she asked, not expecting an answer. "Why would a guy who can't even replace a roll of toilet paper think that he could replace a faucet?"

Knowing all of that, why would I have ever even tried to replace the knob and deadbolts on the front door?

I'm sure the knob would have been easy to install ... if the holes in the door had been in the right place. And I'm sure the deadbolt would have been easy to install ... if I hadn't had to perform some maneuver called a "mortise cut."

I finished the job, but not quite in time for the 5 p.m. dinner. I ate cold lamb chops at about seven-thirty, comforted by the fact that no prowler could ever break through that front door. After all, if I couldn't get that dead bolt open, how could he!?!

Everything was just a little crooked, just a bit too tight. And my mortise cut? Just a little bigger than the part I installed.

Then I had to suffer the consequences ... every time my wife walked up to the front door, every time she had to use both hands to turn the key to the deadbolt, and every time she had to slam the door two or three times just to get it to remain closed.

"You know," I'd say. "I really should have called someone to do this."

With that, I'm sure she would have gone screaming out the front door... had she been able to get it open.

So when it came time to replace the door knob and deadbolt recently, I gathered the hardware and tools together, drew on my past workworking experience ... and called John for help.

I wonder how he is with plumbing?

Want to talk? Call me at 408.354.3110, ext. 31, or drop me a note at dsparrer@svcn.com.