Ugh.

As I'm sitting here at the living room table, nominally finishing up a project, the doorbell rings. All my friends know that, during the day when I'm home and the door is unlocked, they should just walk straight in. Don't ring the doorbell. Don't knock on the door. If Kris and I are having sex, we'll lock the door first. And if we forget, it'll be an entertaining story I can blog about that night.

So, I'm sitting here, the doorbell rings, the dogs jump up and start howling and barking and baying and ar-roooooing and I get annoyed. My first thought is that this is Mike, whose house I was just at, and what is he doing over here? I can't stand answering the door to solicitors and telling them no (I'm sure it's part of that "You don't like conflict, do you?" part of me that Mike refers to regularly). Whatever. I look out the kitchen window to see a young kid look back over his shoulder at me looking at him.

Great. Now he knows I'm home and I know he knows I'm home and I'm not going to answer the door.

Rationally, I realize I'm under no obligation to answer the door. Yes, I should have put up that "No Solicitors" brass sign I bought a year ago (you know, the one I can't find in the mess of an office), maybe even install some camera system so that I don't have to peek out through the window. I know. I know. Still.

The not-so-rational part causes my heart to start hammering. What if this kid just walks in? The door is open. The front door is open and I'm in the part of the house with no phone. The dogs would lick the guy, while I have to dive out the front bedroom window to get away, while my phone is in the other room.

And locking the front door with his standing there would be rude, so we can't do that, can we?

I can't stand this. What a strange situation. One that, I'm sure, shows a clear view into my soul.

And it's not a sight I like.