I spend
alot of time alone. Most times this doesn't really bother me. I get to be as messy, lazy,
ungroomed as I want or as
OCD, overdressed and
overgroomed as I choose to be.
I mean it is perfectly
ok for me to prance around my house in my
jammies and gold
strappy high heels with one perfectly plucked eyebrow and four different shades of red lipstick decorating my mouth. After all nobody home but Maggie-Pie,
Murdy, Bruiser and Me. And the four
leggers couldn't care less what I decorate myself with but then . . .the doorbell rings!
!BING BONG! buzz Utter silence befalls my home. What was that noise? Perfectly plucked eyebrow arched in surprise.
Murdy and Bruiser on point. STRANGER DANGER! OH NOES!!
I frantically think what is more important to regular people, clothes or make-up? THINK WOMAN THINK!!!
!BING BONG! BING BONG! forget it, no time to think just grab a throw and throw it around yourself, kick off the heels and assume an "I just rolled out of bed" expression.
ANSWER the door. I should have drills for this.
What do I say? "Hello" "what the hell do you want" "I have a gun and large dogs"
I open the door.
I spy with my astigmatic eye, is it the neighbor boy? Could be, once he starts spouting gibberish about striped basketballs, I realize it has to be. Insert useless conversation here.
So I find some suitable outside clothes and venture with the boys as guards to the backyard to find the
SUPERIMPORTANTENOUGHTOBOTHERABOUTSTRIPEDBASKETBALL and return it the the slow neighbor boy.
Neighbor boy proceeds to antagonize the boys not heeding my curt warning, "They BITE." Instead he tries to pet them,
ughhhhhh and as I turn to walk away he asks "Is that house haunted?" (he asks me this every time he talks to me).
My reply "Not to my knowledge."
"
cuz, I been seeing this white woman looking at me."
Me: "I have a lot of white friends."
"the ghost woman is fat (insert sweeping arm gesture) with like wavy brown hair (insert hand movements to reflect wavy long hair) I seen her looking at me."
Me: "Sorry."
and I walk off into the house to call
dh and tell him that I should call an exterminator, for the fat white ghost that may or may not be a peeping
tomasina.
I think more frightening than a ghost (which would be the AWESOME) is that the neighbor boy with no job and three kids
must stand around looking into MY windows.
