Man with a hurt kitty? Bye, bye dead kitty.
Ed McMahon with a big check? Call me, Ed, we can set up an appointment.
If Gary’s home he invites the strangers in and by the time I get to the living room they’re all sharing a Dr. Pepper in the foyer.
A man joined our discussion and asked if I had grown up in a dangerous city or a bad neighborhood. No, I’d just known of two cautionary tales about strangers and didn’t want to be the third.
Wilma tells a story of when she was at home alone and a Bible salesman came to her front door. Somehow he finagled his way into her kitchen, pushed her up against the fridge and had the nosey neighbor not been spying on her, worse would have happened. When the neighbor let herself into Wilma’s kitchen the “Bible salesman” fled.
But, you say, she let him into the house. That’s where it all went wrong. No one opens the door and then lets the stranger in. As if the threshold of the front door was an invisible barrier like the kind that comes with teh Roomba.
I counter with the other cautionary tale: sometimes the strangers have business in the house. Another relative was in town purchasing a house for her and her husband and family. The realtor showing her the house raped her. She didn’t report him any more than Wilma reported the “Bible salesman.” You might say, “Well, I can see why Wilma didn’t report the ‘Bible salesman;’ he knew where she lived.” As it turns out, my relative bought the house the realtor had showed her. Weird? No, she didn’t remember the incident.
Not even after her belly started to grow. “Are you pregnant?” family would ask. “Why no,” she said, “I haven’t had relations with my husband for two years. Must be a tumor.”
So possibly:
1) She had traumatic amnesia
2) She was in deep denial
3) She thought you could only get pregnant by your husband
I’m quite literal myself, and if my mother had explained, “Babies come when a husband and wife love each other very much and have marital relations,” I would probably assume you needed a husband AND love to grow a baby.
I can’t imagine 4) She happily consented – because 9 months later the tumor had grown to such a degree that she had to take to the bathtub and have a baby in the middle of the night, and she was quite surprised. She had had three children already, and (according to reports) was outraged when the tumor began to push out of her.
The next day was a busy day in that household, with my Granceil and every relative showing up to welcome Baby Tumor and to get the details of exactly how this had happened. Baby Tumor was raised by that family and was remarkable in that he could drag the claw-foot table he was tethered to across a dining room and would have made it into the kitchen had the doorway been wider.
So hey. You can talk to me through the sidelight window, door to door solicitors.
12 responses to “Door to Door”
As a single female, I don’t open the door period unless I am expecting someone I know. If I’m not expecting someone, I am lucky that I can check a window upstairs to see who it is. If I don’t know you, FUCK OFF. I don’t want what it is you’re selling.Same goes for the main phone line.
I vowed a few months ago I was never answering my door again, since it always seems to cost me money (sucker is written across my forehead). Sadly, I didn’t remember this vow when a nice young lady from an environmental group came knocking yesterday. Really, I mean it now, I’m NOT ANSWERING MY DOOR AGAIN!
I’ve also got a side light next to my front door. The door gets opened for no one. If you’re bleeding and your entrails are in your arms, a nurse lives right across the street from me. That is all.
When I lived in my first apartment (alone) I had two weird incidents.I had fallen asleep on my couch one afternoon after work. I awoke to the sound of my door opening. A very large, muscular man stood there. I looked at him, looked at the balcony, and tried to decide whether I could get out the sliding glass door before he got to me. Thank God he realized he had gone to the wrong apartment (his friend lived across the hall) and apologized instead of entering. The door was never left unlocked again.A few months later I was home sick from work and trying to sleep. Someone kept knocking on the door. I finally asked who was there. “Carl.” Shit, that’s the name of the maintenance guy who has a key anyway. I opened the door. It was one of those obnoxious magazine salesmen trying to earn points for whatever the story is. When I told him to go away he stuck his foot in the door and wouldn’t leave. I damn near had to call the cops to get him out of there.
.75 – Thank you! I’m with you. Did I invite a stranger here? Have we been introduced?Kristie – But’s it’s the environment! How often does the environment ask for anything? Becs – My sidelight is dirty. They can’t really see me, but I can see them.Caroline – TeddyJ would never do the foot in the door trick. Those are nice boys.
I agree with #0.75.
Theories.A) Wilma was seducing the “bible salesman” and got caught by the nosy neighbor. (shudder)B) Auntie was crazy.
*sigh* both of these stories make me sad. . . sadder though is the much greater likelihood of the perp not being a stranger, and tho i know this i am still fearful of being alone and by myself at night. . .
Autumn – I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you say that. I needed to hear that today. Anyone who disagrees with .75 certainly can disagree in the comments, but tomorrow would be a better day to do that. Hot Mom – To both point, neither showed those symptoms throughout the rest of their lives.Keri – I know. But take heart that people can at least talk about it now.
Thank you Autumn!
I have an amendment to the “not answering the door” declaration. If Tim from the Alternate Routes is standing at my door, I’m definitely letting him in. This will make more sense after Saturday (I’m assuming you’re still seeing Carbon Leaf this weekend).
Kristie – You have piqued my interest!