Hard work

I've had problems with my door handle to my apartment. Either the door sticks, or the handle gets loose making it hard to slam the door closed, or the handle just falls off. Last night the handle fell off, again, for the third time. For the third time I called my landlord, who's actually a friend of mine out here, and for the third time, she brought over one of the handymen who works at her office to fix it. Each time I've hinted to her that there needs to be a new door handle, and she knows it, yet each time she simply brings over a new handyman and he figures out a way to just jam the thing onto the door in hopes of it staying there.

She brought a man and left to go back to work. This guy is in my hallway corridor right now messing with the door. He is panting and grunting, and when he walked in he smelled sweaty. He's a guy I know from the office- one of the security dudes. He always says hi to me and asks me questions on the differences between here (MD) and there (USA). He has taken one of my kitchen knives to use for fixing the door; this is not the first handyman to do this and hopefully he doesn't bend the tip of the knife like the last guy did.

He is banging and pulling on my door. I am in my living room. It's sounding pretty productive over there, what with all the exclamations of "son of a bitch!" and "fuck your mother" he's emitting. For every morning that I have had to wake up to banging from the upstairs neighbors, I finally get to respond back with my own personal banging and cursing. It's my way of saying thank you, but too bad it's afternoon, and not, say, 11pm.

Now I'm just waiting for him to finish so I can go outside and enjoy this lovely spring day. I hope he gets the handle in good enough so I can leave my house and not worry about- Oh! I just heard him sighing "tak, tak tak!" which sounds like a conclusive remark to me. Let's find out shall we?

Update: Wood shards all over the floor. He used the knife to cut a branch outside and used the branch to mount the door handle somehow. Crafty.

Final Update: Dripping wet, he finished the door. Telling me I could use my feet and the door handle won't break off, he pulled and pulled to demonstrate his work. He then, pointing to the wood on the floor said, "You'll sweep that up," put his tools back in his plastic shopping bag, wished me well, and went on his way.