“Help help!” a five-year old guest yelled in the bathroom a few weekends ago.

The door was stuck. It wouldn’t budge. The non-lazy adults immediately got up from the couch where we had been enjoying the Euro 2012 semifinals. Some of us trying pushing the door so that it could be opened. Others tried coaching little Luca on how to open the door. I felt guilty for not allowing our broken bathroom door to exist. After all, a few years ago I too panicked inside the bathroom when the handle fell off completely.

It was shut. Eventually we figured out that he had taken the key out the door. Oddly enough, despite living at my place for almost 6 years, no guest nor roommates nor myself…had ever used the key. I always had left it on the door, not particularly interested in locking the door. Because hey people, if the door is shut, it means that I don’t want YOU coming in. If the door is not shut, come in to poop, pee…or do whatever business you need to do.

Moments later, we coached Luca to put the key back into the door and the door unlocked…open. Unscathed. Amazingly, he just looked thrilled (maybe because he was already bored of being adults who were being stone-faced and uninteresting during the soccer game). He jumped up and down while his parents gave him a hug for being so courageous.

Ever since then (and probably caused by other incidents), the bathroom door started having issues. It was hard to close. It made this loud sound. The kind that happened at 3 am…and would wake me up with a start. Oh hai roommate home after a crazy night out! I just couldn’t take it anymore and every night, I would try to make a mental note that I wanted that door fixed.

But then Chris looked at it. A screwdriver, a shoe…was all he needed to fix it. He left a post-it on the door, “Hey Paco! I fixed the door and now it closes silently! ~CT” I didn’t wake up at all that night. The next morning, there was a scribble on the note, “Thank you!”