Bookworms, I have a confession to make.
Jim and I HIDE when the doorbell rings, particularly if it’s after dark. The last winter’s eve visitor we had turned out to be a Mormon missionary. While I respect the rights of all people to practice their respective religions, I would prefer it if I were left alone to practice (or not practice) mine in the privacy of my own home. In any case, we’ve adopted a “don’t answer the door unless you know someone’s coming” policy.
Which is great. Unless your cell phone is set to silent, so you don’t get the memo that your neighbors are coming by to drop off the winnings of the holiday decorating contest. (Because eeep! We won the GRISWOLD!) And you leave your friend outside on the porch in the cold while you hide behind furniture because you think you’re being stealthy by not looking out the window to actually see who’s there. (If you don’t see them, they don’t see you, right?) Except you’ve forgotten to draw the blinds and the sheer curtains totally blow your cover. Did I mention that this is the friend that you trust enough to give KEYS to your HOUSE?
Yeah. We’re THOSE neighbors now. The super paranoid weirdos who hide from their friends, never open the door for fundraising teenagers, and give the stink eye to anybody who walks on their immaculate lawn. Tyson, Angie, Jeannie, and Ann, please accept my humble, sheepish, mortified apology. Y’all are the best neighbors in the land, so great that you probably will just laugh at our antics and use them for future good-natured teasing, but seriously. So freaking sorry!
I don’t think I’ve been this full on embarrassed in a while (my shame-meter has been calibrated to be pretty high.) Any of you bookworms want to tell an embarrassing story of your own so I don’t have to feel like such a paranoid loser face? Please?