No Soliciting

Hi friend, yes it's been nearly a year since my last blog post, I almost forgot that this little zone of sanity existed, because I have been so busy, and then came the sometimes stressful task of thinking of something witty to write about. But I am back and I shall try to post here more often, but I'm not making any promises.

 Let me tell you a little about my little slice of earth and stick here on our planet called my neighborhood. I live on the first street of a subdivision in the center of my neighborhood. Unlike most of my employed neighbors I am home mostly all day unless there is some sort of errand or a medical emergency that I must deal with, but as my daughters or grandsons haven't severed any body parts due to traumatic paper cuts lately, I am usually here. Because of my location, the moment that weather becomes nice, my front door bell begins ringing or the knocking on the door with the exuberance of an A.T.F raid begins. I do not mind, on principal, being the Girl Scout leader from hell for nearly 10 years, the little scouts selling cookies or popcorn, but I have had people selling books, magazines, cleaning supplies that would remove tar from the front of my car and double as a carpet cleaner and more on my threshold. The parade of people trying to convert me, trying to get me to elect or reelect them, or switch my cable, trash, or car/life insurance was getting a bit ridiculous. Usually I could just ignore them and they would go away, but it was getting a little crazy, as in the sales people who wanted me to buy 42 magazines so that they could continue their education with a side excursion to Zimbabwe was getting a little out of hand, and the salesmen more pushy. So I bought myself a sign, and my hubby installed it right above the door bell, it simply states "No Soliciting". White letters on a black plastic background. For the reading challenged there is even a drawing of a man, holding a briefcase, standing in a little drawn doorway with a perfect circle drawn around it with an ominous line drawn through it. For a long time it worked like a magical wall of electricity that would keep the unwanted tradespeople away, sort of like a reverse shock collar like one you would buy to keep your dog from roaming aimlessly down the road and becoming roadkill. But alas, apparently we didn't pay the magical electricity bill or something because for the last 2 weeks, nearly every day, someone has made it through the force field and to my front door.

Yesterday was the last straw. I had finally made the time to watch the Season 3 finale of "Downton Abbey". If you haven't seen this stellar import from England showing on your local PBS station, you need to! It puts the Masterpiece in Masterpiece Theater and is better than crack for the soap opera addict.  Anyway, I'm am thoroughly embedded in the blossoming romance of the house cook and the player of a shop keeper when the doorbell disturbs the peace. Am supposed to stop and find the remote control to hit pause, when Mr. player shop keep is running all around town pinching bottoms and stealing kisses? I don't think so! I stand up, look out the front window, that gives me a spectacular view of the driveway. Seeing no police cars or fire trucks I plop back down on the sofa and turn up the volume, promising myself that the next person who rings my door bell and beats on the door better have a warrant.

This morning, once again, the doorbell rang, and I did my best to ignore this, but then the banging on the door started. Ignoring the visitor was out of the question, so after taking several deep breaths, checking the window to make sure that it wasn't the prize patrol with my huge check, balloons, and champagne, I opened the door. It was two middle aged ladies who apparently felt that it was their main mission in life to convert me to their religion today or I would be burning in eternal hell tomorrow. Anyone knowing me personally will attest that I, am the queen of polite diplomacy..this morning, not so much. The conversation went like this:

         Me: Good morning, ladies. Can I help you?

      Lady 1: I'm sorry did we wake you? 

        Me: No, I was meditating on ways to solve the gun control problem in this fine country of ours. Is there an emergency?

      Lady 2: Oh no. We wanted to drop off this little booklet of good news. You know when you open the newspaper it is full of bad news. But God has a plan to end our suffering and so his good news is in this booklet.

       Me: Well, we could all use some good news. Obviously you ladies love to read. Did you read the sign by my doorbell? 

     Lady 1: Umm....

       Me: It says "no soliciting" (at this point I was showing the sign like one of those uber-skinny game show models), that means essentially go away. 

With that I closed the door in their surprised face, wishing I had had a snappier little comeback. Let me state, for the record, that I totally understand the whole concept of spreading the "word" and ideology of one's religion, but stand on a street corner and shout it to the heavens and passers-by, don't do door-to-door commando theater, at least not in my neighborhood, especially when I am in a foul mood.

This weekend I'm going to get a bigger sign, maybe one that covers the door bell.

ME