Doorbell Hell
What happens when the most incompetent man alive attempts routine household maintanence?
Order off-brand video doorbell from Amazon.
New doorbell arrives.
It’s the size of a Dodge Omni.
Return video doorbell to Amazon.
Buy Ring doorbell.
New doorbell arrives.
Look for circuit breaker for doorbell.
Previous owners of my house didn’t mark circuit breakers clearly.
Shut off power.
Try uninstalling old doorbell.
Mailbox is in the way.
Try unscrewing mailbox from wall.
Screwdriver is too large.
Dig through ten millions screwdrivers downstairs and find one that will fit.
Successfully remove one screw.
Second screw clings to wall like a drowning man to a life preserver.
Turn entire mailbox counterclockwise in attempt to remove it.
Neighbours start wondering if they should call 911 or something.
Mailbox finally comes loose.
Turn attention to removing old doorbell.
Safety screw is about the size of a red blood cell.
Try all of the ten million screwdrivers in my house.
Find that none of these ten million screwdrivers are the right size.
Drive to Canadian Tire.
Buy new teeny tiny screwdriver.
Return home.
Amazingly this is the right size.
Remove old doorbell.
Take apart new one.
Doorbell wires are about as long as a newly cut fingernail.
Contort body to try wrapping doorbell wires around terminal screws.
Loosen terminal screws further.
Terminal screw goes flying and lands somewhere in the yard.
Yell F-word loud enough for people in Boston to hear.
Google “ring doorbell lost terminal screw.”
Directed to Ring website.
Link to spare parts kits for sale.
Review spare parts kits.
Kit for my doorbell doesn’t include terminal screws.
Request refund on Amazon.
Find out this is literally the only product on Amazon for which you have to pay for return shipping.
Take Ativan.
Start reinstalling old doorbell.
Terminal screw from that doorbell goes flying.
Google “can I take two Ativan in one day”
Terminal screw located on front step.
Heart starts working again.
Think about how father can fix and install pretty much anything.
Realize I am not my father.
Take a break.
Take deep breaths.
Decide this doorbell just wasn’t meant to be.
Turn attention to my new countertop dishwasher instead.
Hook up water lines to dishwasher.
Attach water lines to faucet.
Load dishwasher.
Turn on water.
Pop in dishwasher pod.
Wonder what they taste like.
Turn on dishwasher.
Clean up flood damage.
Am happy to have finally lost the title of Most Incompetent Man Alive while I am still alive to lose it. Came by it way back in the early '80s lying flat on my back on a concrete driveway beneath a '73 Pontiac changing a starter. In February. In Michigan. In a snowstorm, since that was my only means of transportation, and I needed to go somewhere. With the F-bombs from the resulting melted battery lead being audible in Miami.
Loved reading this. Made the mistake of reading it to my wife as she was serving up dinner, which ended up somewhat delayed due to her inability to stop laughing long enough to get it off the stove and onto the table.
I definitely Laughed Out Loud!