Somebody Don't Get the Door

Before I had kids I rarely responded to the doorbell. When I'm home I don't like to be bothered. Part of the reason may be that when someone is selling something I often buy it. I don't need it but I buy it. I just bought a set of books to help the kids with study time. They are beautiful and full of all kinds of interesting bits of information that would keep me amused for hours. They are well-organized and easy to use. I think only one of the four school-aged kids has actually cracked into the things. I don't answer the door anymore.

Since adulthood, I've only ever had one friend who really lived close enough to drop by and even she knew to call me first to let me know she was coming so I would answer the door. I rented a house for while that had huge windows along the wall where the front door was located. One day Ana and I were snoozing through some movie on the living room couches when a salesman came to the door. I looked up and saw him and he saw me seeing him. Even though it was obvious we were having a little afternoon siesta he STILL knocked on the door. No, I didn't answer it. I don't even know what he was selling and I don't want to know.

Nowadays when the doorbell rings there is a massive stampede for the front door complete with arguing, shoving, and sharp thrusting elbows. The running of the bulls probably isn't as noisy and violent. The bell ringer is often a friend of the kids. Sometimes it's our gardener. On rare occasions it's the UPS man. I don't want to know.

This morning the doorbell rang at 8:30. We were out until midnight last night after visiting family and seeing "Alvin and the Chipmunks". All the kids were still in bed. No one rushed to the door to answer it. Maybe they've got some sense after all. Who rings a doorbell at 8:30 on a Saturday? I don't even want to know.

The doorbell rang again at 9:03am. The kids are up. Watch out for the stampede.