On Friday morning, a little before 8, the sun came up behind the maple and laid a thin, bright line across the kitchen floor. It started under the back door. I stood there with my coffee and watched it the way you'd watch a problem you've known about for eleven months finally show up in writing.
Eleven months of next weekend
Last November we spent a weekend chasing drafts with an incense stick. The front door got a weatherstrip kit, the side and back doors got new sweeps, and fourteen outlets on exterior walls got foam gaskets. The back threshold was the one thing I skipped. It was an old oak threshold worn into a shallow dip in the middle by decades of feet, and the new sweep couldn't reach the bottom of the dip. The smoke went flat and sideways right there. Fixing it properly meant pulling the threshold, it was cold out, and I wrote it down for later.
Later took a while. Over the winter the sweep wore through at both ends, where it dragged on the high spots of the old oak, and by this fall there was daylight under the middle. "It only took eleven months," Tessa said when I announced the plan. That's fair.
I did consider the lazy fix, a taller sweep that would reach down into the dip. It would have dragged even harder on the high ends and been worn out by spring, and the door would have fought us every time it closed. The sweep was never the problem. The threshold was.
Getting the old one out
Sunday, October 4, was 58 degrees and sunny, good weather for having a door open all afternoon. Moose immediately lay down across the open doorway to supervise and enjoy the breeze, and he had to be relocated with a piece of cheese.
The old threshold was nailed down and wedged tight between the jambs, so I cut it in half in the middle with the oscillating multi-tool and pried each half out with a flat bar, working slowly so I didn't crack the bottoms of the jambs. Underneath was a dried-out bead of old caulk and enough grit to fill a coffee mug. What I was really worried about was the wood under all that, so out came the moisture meter. It read dry, and the wood was solid everywhere I poked. After this summer's rotten garage door jamb, that felt like a gift.
Fitting the new one
The replacement is an adjustable threshold for $46: an aluminum base with a cap on top that raises or lowers on screws, so you can bring it up to meet the bottom of the door. It came long, so I cut it to length with a metal blade on the multi-tool and notched both ends to fit around the door stops.
Here's my mistake. On the first end I measured the notch from the face of the jamb instead of from the door stop, and cut it about three-eighths of an inch too deep. It still fits, and the gap is filled with sealant, but you can see it if you lie on the kitchen floor, which I did, more than once. The second end I measured three times, and it fits tight.
I laid a heavy bead of exterior sealant on the floor, pressed the threshold into it and screwed it down. Then I closed the door on a dollar bill at a few spots along the width and turned the adjustment screws until the bill dragged evenly everywhere. The new $12 sweep went on the bottom of the door last, set to just kiss the cap. That evening I lit an incense stick and held it along the bottom of the door, and the smoke went straight up.
The door closes a little firmer now, and Tessa has to give it a real pull on her way out to the garden. I'll take that trade. It's one less draft at the back of the house, and the last item from last November's list is finally crossed off.
On Monday, before I left for work, I waited at the coffee maker until the sun cleared the maple. The floor stayed dark all the way to the door. Total: $46 for the threshold and $12 for the sweep, $58 and one afternoon.
