Knock Knock

The usually response to knock knock is “who’s there?”.  Right?  Well, under normal circumstances, yes.  However, I’ve never been accused of doing anything in a “normal” fashion.

Allow me to set the scene for you.  I was in the kitchen, pulling out all the stops and cooking my little heart out.  My son and his girlfriend were coming over for dinner and I was excited to try a new recipe.  My kitchen smelled wonderful and things were coming along nicely.  Latino music was playing in the background and I was in a most festive mood.  Why does that music always give me the urge to book an all inclusive trip somewhere? Aaaanywaaaay…

Oh, and I forgot to mention…my landlady FINALLY got my doorbell fixed.  It used to sound like a wooden spoon giving one dull clang on an old pot.  There were times I never heard it and folks would stand on the stoop for extended periods of time until they got fed up and either rang my cell or just left.

So the doorbell rang and I heard it.  Hhhm, that’s weird.  My son is usually late to everything and was now here an hour earlier than expected.

I walked down the hall and buzzed them in.  While I was standing at the top of the stairs, I broke out into song.  It went something like this: “I’ve got a new dooooooorbell and it goes BING BONG!”.  I also did a little dance and a twirled at the end.

That’s when I realized that the person coming up the stairs was NOT my son and his girlfriend.  It was a very handsome young representative from the city’s fire department, doing his random checks to make sure the fire detectors were all working up to code.

Fucking hell….  I just stood there, frozen, full on June Cleaver-esque apron and spatula in my hand.  So many things were racing through my mind. Things like “how does my hair look”. “Oh crap did he hear/see that?”

You know what didn’t race through my mind?  “Hello Mr. Potential Serial Killer.  Come on in.  How can I make your task easier for you today?”.

I have no idea what went through his mind, but he acted like it was all perfectly normal.

Sigh…I’m sure they were all having a great laugh at the firehouse the next day.  Oh, and when the doorbell rings now, I walk my little ole self down the stairs and peek through the window now. Each and every time.

 

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