The very first morning after the very first night we spent in our condo, I tried to have a very Maria von Trapp moment as I walked out onto the balcony, and promptly put my foot through the screen door, forgetting it was closed.
I love our balcony, and I love that we have a screen door so the fresh city air can waft in along with horns blaring and thug life music blasting from the street below. I do not love that there was a big, gaping hole that let flies and other riff-raff in, and I loved even less the fact that Fat Cat decided to try and make this small hole into an even bigger one, as if to create a cat door when we weren’t letting him outside fast enough for his liking to loll about under the tomato plant.
So earlier this summer, I tried to patch the hole (it only took me a year to get around to it. Pretty speedy of me, no?) with a kit from the hardware store. As that did not so much work, I turned to the no-fail solution of duct tape.
Long strips now cover the hole on both sides of the screen, and neither fly nor cat has been able to get through. The day I performed this feat of astute intelligence, Swede was out and about doing other things, but I couldn’t let him miss out on my sheer brilliance, and knelt down to snap a picture.
And was promptly photobombed by this sucker who has never quite grasped the meaning of “helpfulness.”