Notice that my subtitle above doesn’t say “snug as a bug in a rug.” After learning how that phrase originated, I shuddered. Apparently, it dates back to the mid-1700s and references moth larvae rolled up inside woolen rugs that dine on the fibers within. Ugh! But, more on that later.

Let me turn to a quote more relevant to my rug-related thoughts. Have you ever heard the expression, “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem?” That phrase was apparently coined by Charles Rosner for a campaign to advertise Volunteers in Service to America (VISTA), an anti-poverty program in the United States begun in 1965.

Recently, Dennis and I faced a problem with a solution that worked too well. But then, a second problem became the solution to the first one.

Those who live in older homes know how quirky they can be. Our farmhouse is over 150 years old. It’s sturdily built, but like many historic homes, it has its share of oddities. Corners that aren’t square and floors that aren’t level are more the norm than the exception.

We have creaky floors, stair treads and doors aplenty. We mostly shrug off these little things as “adding character” and learn to ignore them. However, sometimes, a quirk rises to the level of being an annoyance and action is needed. Such was the case with the master bedroom’s door.

It’s an old, four-panel wooden door with two white porcelain doorknobs and a black-painted metal case on the door’s interior. This slender, rectangular box houses the inner workings of the latch operated by those knobs, along with a keyhole into which a long-lost antique key could be used to lock it once upon a time.

While this door has seen a lot of openings and closings since the mid-19th century, it serves its purpose quite well, though sometimes maintenance is needed to correct a recurring problem. Let me sum that noisy problem up this way — “creak, creeeeak!” This is not just a cute little creak. It’s a loudly noticeable creak that can literally awake others from their sleep.

This problem has occurred previously, but tends to come and go depending on the humidity in the air, which apparently swells the door just enough to affect the operation of the hinges. Only rarely has outside intervention been necessary. For instance, back in April when Dennis’ daughter and her husband visited us from Berlin, we knew they’d already be fighting jetlag and we didn’t want to add a rude awakening from a creaky door to their sleeping woes.

So, Dennis rounded up a spray can of a silicone product from the barn and applied it to our bedroom door’s offending hinges. The problem was solved — until July, that is, when the creaking gradually grew louder once more.

We live near railroad tracks and have learned to sleep through train noises, so we can usually sleep through the creaking of the bedroom door. However, the sound eventually grew loud enough that, if Dennis or I got up and left the room during the night, the loudly creaking door would wake up the other one.

When my brother and his wife came to visit in late July, we didn’t want them becoming the next victims of the door’s unwanted wake-up call, so Dennis again went in search of the silicone spray. When the door creaking continued, I reminded Dennis about siliconing the hinges. He responded by saying he’d already sprayed the hinges, but perhaps the silicone just needed to work its way into them.

The creaking continued and, when I suggested to Dennis that perhaps a second application was needed, he said he’d already done that, too. My brother’s visit came and went, but fortunately, the window air conditioner in the guest room drowned out the haunted-house sound effects from our door.

And, the creaking continued even after our guests’ departure. When I mentioned to Dennis that maybe it was time for yet another hinge treatment, he noted that the spray can was still setting on the porch bench and invited me to apply some to the hinges myself. That was when I noticed the spray can on the porch was orange and white, while I recalled the silicone spray coming in a blue and yellow can. Upon closer inspection, it turned out Dennis had inadvertently been spraying the hinges with starter fluid.

An embarrassed Dennis quickly retrieved the silicone spray. He applied it and hinge silence reigned once more. But now we developed a new problem. The silicone had done such a good job that the door would drift open by itself if not firmly latched — and latching it completely was itself a difficult and noisy thing. You’d swear you’d latched the door, but would awake to discover the door was wide open, letting all our nice air-conditioning escape into the stair hall.

Here’s how another problem solved this problem. I’m somewhat of a throw rug addict. Dennis is mostly anti-throw rug because they always slip-slide around and bunch up at the door. That motivated me to slide the bedroom entry’s throw rug over the threshold and close the door without latching it. Bingo! The door closed soundlessly over the rug, which blocked it from opening. Problem number one was solved by problem number two.

Columnist Sue Bowman assesses the state of her garden this time of year.

Ichthammol is reputed to have anti-inflammatory, anti-bacterial and fungicidal properties and can be used on both humans and animals.

Columnist Sue Bowman fondly recalls the days of bringing cold drinks out to the workers in the fields.

Sue Bowman is a freelance writer in southeastern Pennsylvania.

Success! An email has been sent to with a link to confirm list signup.

Error! There was an error processing your request.

The most important Farming stories delivered to your inbox each week.