Wednesday, January 31, 2007

I will not eat green eggs and ham

Yesterday, in my usual frenzied mad dash out of the house in attempt to get to work on time, the doorbell rang. I was cutting pineapple slices to toss into vanilla yogurt as part of my dinner and seriously considered not answering it.

But unlike the last time a visitor came to the door, I was dressed. A few days ago, on one of my typical weekdays off, Toby and I commandeered the couch for a mid-afternoon girly movie marathon. Knowing I had no place to be, I embraced it and lounged around in my pajamas, topped off with my gigantic fluffy pink robe.

When the doorbell rang, Toby went crazy, as usual, and I tried slinking under the blanket, willing the person to just go away. Especially if it was that crazy Jehovah's Witness lady who is stalking our house and leaving angry pamphlets in our door telling us how the Bible is full of LIES. Jerry practically invited her over for Christmas once because she's good at what she does, but now that I've slapped him over the head with her phone book-sized religious-toting information packets, I think he understands that despite her ability to use words like "God" and "heaven," she's pure evil, if not the direct spawn of Satan.

But as I was willing away this incessantly persistent doorbell ringer, I eventually realized that our front door has a window. And as I bravely peeked out from underneath the blanket to see if I could determine who it is, I stared eye-to-eye with him.

Shit. I forgot windows go both ways.

So, this unknown guy had seen me. The jig was up. I was clearly trying to avoid him and he knew it. Reluctantly and a bit embarrassed, I got off the couch, picked Toby up and answered the door with my crazy disheveled hair and pink fluffy robe.

"Um, hey," I said, hoping that I'd wake up any minute and it would all be a bad dream.

He looked as awkward as I felt.

"Hi. I'm, uh, here to read your gas meter."

"Right. C'mon in," I said. "It's down in the basement."

As I led him to the door, part of me felt like feigning a cough or a sneeze. Or even saying something like, "Yeah, called in sick today." But then I realized that it's this guy's job to interrupt people at home. I'm sure he's seen far worse. So I worked my full-length pink fluffy robe. Whatever. I even plopped myself back on the couch and waved him off as he left, making a mental note to call in the meter reading next month.

But on this most recent doorbell assault, I was dressed and ready. I looked presentable. I didn't have to hide in plain sight. Plus, Toby was outside playing in the snow, so I didn't have to worry about him and his crazy freak-out episodes anytime we open the front door.

Wiping my hands on a towel to get off the pineapple juice on the way, I looked out the door window to see a kid with a shovel. He was maybe 12 or 13.

"Hi," I said.

"Would you like your sidewalk shoveled?" he asked, oh-so politely.

"Oh, that's really kind of you to offer, but my husband will get to it when he gets home soon. Thank you, though."

"Are you sure?"

And here's where I started to feel guilty. I know this kid was doing it to make a little cash. I'm sure it's hard to make money at his age. He's not old enough to get a part-time job and probably doesn't want to babysit. I get it. But my wallet is full of tumbleweeds and I'm pretty sure he doesn't accept credit, so I thanked him again and closed the door feeling like a horrible, horrible person. A horrible person who shoos away religion and little boys offering to shovel.

Who knows? Next I might dismiss a basket of homeless puppies.

So that's it. I'm not answering the door anymore. Not for religious-toting freaks, not for gas company employees, not for little boys with shovels, not for anyone. Not at the front door, not at the back. Not with a mouse, not in my house.

I will not eat green eggs and ham.

Or, uh, answer the door. Ever.



mom said...

Shame on you!!! Remember those lemonade stands you had?? How could you turn that poor kid away?

Alana said...

That all works fine and great, the door plan that is, until you decide you want pizza and let's face it, after the pizza guy comes over anybody else may as well come over too. :-P

Anonymous said...

ya know...

SAM I AM eventually eats and LIKES the green eggs and ham...


Pauline said...

I can pass you turning down a kid, ect. I was walking out of the grocery store yesterday, and some nice old lady with a stack of Krispy Kreme's taller than her was selling them for her church fund raiser. To help a kid with cancer, who couldn't pay all the bills. It was 10 degree's with a 30 mph winds outside. I should have marched my ass right back inside and pulled a twenty out while buying a huge box of krispy kreme's. I told her I had no money. I am going to be seated on the right hand of Lucifer, after God strikes me down.

Anonymous said...

Ha, I work from home and the door bell rings daily, I was surprised. I never answer the door anymore. It's never something fun like an unexpected package it's always a pain.

Janice said...

Aww I always feel so bad when children need money and all I have in my wallet is a debit card and a credit card. It's not my fault, right? :) Was the gas guy at least cute? :) haha said...

Ignore the people guilt-tripping you over the kid.

Know what I did when I was his age? I did chores for an elderly man in my home town. He worked my ass off ALL DAY LONG! He can do the same.

And my friend's dad used to get Jehova's witnesses all the time.... until he answered the door naked, and shook his "unit" as he screamed "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

Needless to say, they stopped all together. And if you do that, I wanna hear about it. ;)

Kristin said...

Poeple don't come to my house. Not even trick-or-treaters, which was really depressing I might add.

the_plainsman said...

Its hard to know where to draw the line, but I usually give in to the local kids and community groups and forget the commercial stuff.

The gas and water utilities probably have remote reading meters available, so you can be done with remembering to call or have strangers tracking though your house, more secure, too.

Witnesses are here as well, it is part of their religion to try to spread the word to the rest of us. I once had the impertinence to (politely) ask, "Just what is it you saw?" Prefaced that with "I am leaving for a Doctors appointment" and gave him about a minute or so.

Then I heard they did not celebrate their own birthdays, so asked about that, again with the quick cut off. It seems that they are now just leaving the folders at the door and forgetting about my doorbell!

jsi said...

Windows go two ways - too true. RATS

Suzy said...

It's been too long since I read your blog. I ended up reading eh, probably the whole last months worth. Nice, my friend, as always. :)
A family down the street from us are Jw's. Bud always makes it a point to ask the semi-mentally handicapped grown man-child that lives with them when we're going to be invited to his birthday party, or what he got last Christmas. And I always laugh, and that's probably bad.

Ray said...

Not even for Jerry?! Yikes! Hehe.

*Marilynmonroe4u2nv from Xanga.*

BensonsMom said...

I do that too, try to avoid the door. We have this dark tinted stuff on the door window though so we can see out, they can't see in. So some ideas: #1. Get some window tinting/mirror film for your door. You'll see out - they won't see in. #2. Call the water office and have them install one of those reader thingies (then they can do it, and you don't have to answer the door, OR call in the reading), though you will have to answer the door at least once more to let the guy in the basement until he runs a wire.... #3. Sorry, I have nothing for the Jehovah's Witness lady besides refering you to #1 (or trying the Xanga NothingBeast idea - and I'd want to know how that goes as well). Now, all I have to do is figure out how to keep the puppies from swinging the mini blind on the window that runs the whole width of out porch... ugh... maybe more window tinting is in order!