Unexpected Guests

I'm still getting used to random people knocking on the front door of our house. Random people... like the FedEx guy, the UPS guy, the propane tank filler guy, the neighbor, etc.

In New York, people couldn't knock on our door because we lived in an apartment building that required outsiders to buzz in via an intercom. Sometimes, I answered when they buzzed. Sometimes, I didn't. If I did answer, I had at least seven minutes to get presentable before they made it up the five flights of stairs to our apartment.

Yesterday, I relaxed in the recliner with the cats. I hadn't gotten dressed for the day yet. My hair hung in a side ponytail. I wore old glasses. I hadn't washed my face or brushed my teeth. My robe hung open because of my big, pregnant belly.

Basically, I looked good. Really, really good.

But, it didn't matter because I was at home, inside, where no one would see me.

Then, unexpectedly, the doorbell rang. The cats and I bolted upright. We panicked. I tiptoed down the hall to hide around the corner. Who was it? I didn't expect company.

Then, a loud knock. Geez, Louise! It must be important.

I opened the door to a man who wanted to do something to our something to fix something that needed something. It didn't matter what he wanted. His face said it all.

He looked horrified. He wondered who would ever marry, even impregnate, such a rough looking woman. I tried to straighten my ponytail and cover the baby bump while he talked, but it was too late.

I think we need to install an intercom like we had in New York.

Pronto.