Knock, Knock?

I have a long history of answering the door inappropriately.  Allow me to rephrase that:  I have a long history of accidentally answering the door under unfortunate circumstances.  Just last Saturday, I opened the door in my underwear much to the malay of my friends, Scott and Zoe.  In my defense, I was simply trying to take out the garbage and I thought I could make it the five feet from the door to the trash can without anybody seeing me.  After all, I am fast.  I’m very fast!  Unfortunately, I’m also forgetful and I’d forgotten that early in the week, I’d invited Zoe and Scott over for Saturday brunch at 12:30.  Promptly, at 12:30, I made the garbage trek in my skivvies just as they were approaching the door.

I played the whole thing off as no big deal.  As if I answer the door like this all the time.  Harder to explain was:

  1. Why my poor boyfriend was also not fully dressed, wearing only a look of extreme surprise,
  2. Why our house was a complete pit, and
  3. Why two unclothed persons in a messy house with no food or drink prepared would answer the door to receive visitors.

It was not my most shining of moments yet not entirely an isolated incident.

There was the time I passed out in my underwear on the sofa in full view of my front door while awaiting delivery from Mister Z’s.  I’d forgotten that I’d called them.  They left a little note on my door which I woke up to the next morning in agonizing cheesesteak horror.  (Yeah, they didn’t let me live that one down for years.)

There were also the thugs who tried to break into my house the morning after Hurricane Wilma only to be greeted at the door by me, you guessed it, in my underwear, wielding a mop handle and a fairly homicidal scowl.  And then there was the most classic case of inappropriate door behavior….the time I knocked on my neighbor’s door while in my underwear.  I’m not a pervert.   I got locked out trying to set some garbage outside on my stoop.  (Apparently I’ve yet to learn my lesson about not taking the garbage out in my undies.)

Locking the front door is not my strong suit and weather permitting, it’s often wide open.  I’ve accidentally flashed the meter man, the mailman, countless landlords, one sheriff’s department officer, a process server and several Jehovah’s Witnesses.  Let’s just put it this way:  If I’m home and not expecting visitors and haven’t ordered delivery food, there’s a good chance I’m in my underwear.   (Sometimes those Chinese food delivery guys are so fast, I scarcely have time to find my pants.)

My friend Sydney came over one day for lunch.  She was early…..way early.   She walked in without knocking only to find me in the kitchen wearing only my skivvies and a snorkel mask.  I know I looked ridiculous but I was in the middle of chopping onions and using the snorkel mask keeps my eyes from watering.  And like I said, she was early.

Perhaps I need to consider rigging a large cow bell at the gate for unsuspecting visitors to ring, or perhaps a motion sensor alarm and a ready robe on a hook in every room.  Or I could simply start locking the front door.  Then again, you all could always call first.  Knocking on an open door way, shouting hello and walking in simultaneously doesn’t cut it.

Today another unsuspecting visitor caught me at my front door in a less than normal costume.  It was the asshole who lives behind me and he had waltzed through the street front gate and all the way down the inconvenient and lengthy pathway that leads to my front door to “discuss” my exterior lighting which he deemed to be “excessively bright” and “blinding.”  In the middle of cooking, I answered the unsolicited visitor at the door in a bra top and a frilly apron.  He was clearly uncomfortable.  He’d come over for some neighborly confrontation and if I had to guess, he was hoping to speak with the man of the house, not a half naked woman in an apron.  He complained about the exterior lights on our house that allegedly shine into his property all night long.  I smiled, wooden spoon in hand, and said I would turn them off by 10 O’Clock.   Redundantly, he complained that the lights were far too bright and I reminded him that I’d take care of the problem.  He complained about the incessant noise of a pump that he could hear from his living room.  Tooling with my apron, I suggested he shut his door when our hot tub is running.  Had I been fully clothed and not in the middle of delightful food on the stove, I may have told him to go fuck himself and thrown him off our property with a wee bit of force.  But the situation was awkward and somewhat comical given my costume and his obvious state of trespassing.  So, I let him stand in my doorway for a half a minute more of super uncomfortable silence before saying “Thank you” and “Have a nice day!” which any sane person would know are euphemisms for “Get off my property” and “Don’t ever come back or I will hurt you.”

The sun is setting and I really must go and turn on my super bright exterior lights for my rear neighbor to enjoy.  If you have something to say to me, email is my preferred form of communication but if you really must speak with me in person, please leave a note in my mailbox, or call before coming over.  It would be embarrassing for us both if I had to chase you off my property in my underpants.


2 responses to “Knock, Knock?

  1. I actually HAVE cowbells on ALL my gates, front and back. They Rock!
    Noone enters without being heard. (an I’m usually, like you, in frilly aprons and snorkel masks) LOL

  2. David

    Well, poop!!! And all these years I have been calling before coming over…damn!!! Oh yeah, and I’ll SEE you in June…and I mean, I hope, SEE you.

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