I had JUST gotten Audri to stop crying at the prospect of taking a bath, which involves cleaning the burn on her forearm. She has good cause to not want to deal with that mess. Anyway, I had gotten her shirt off and then the doorbell rings. Twice. Ding dong, ding dong. I go and look out of Lexi’s window and see a stranger at the door. Now, I don’t know this dude from nothing and I’ve got an upset child to take care of. So I go back to what’s important: the kid.
I’m taking Audri’s pants off and then ding dong, ding dong. Persistent mofo. Meanwhile, Audri’s crying again because not only does she have to have a blistering burn cleaned and redressed, she’s stuffy (again), it’s close to nap time and lunch time and it’s just not an ideal situation all around.
Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong. Thrice. Are you frikkin kidding me with this? Ok, this guy better be bleeding.
I grabbed the scissors I just so happened to have lying there since I was going to have to cut the dressing from Audri’s arm and told her to sit tight for a minute. I called my mom so that if this thing DID happen to go south, I’ve got someone who will at least hear what’s going on and call the cops.
I hear him opening the screen door as I’m coming down the stairs and that’s when hell flew all over me. I flung the door open and put my scissors-wielding hand up against the door frame. I couldn’t see my expression (obviously) but I’m guessing it was along the lines of a snotty “I’m sorry, something I can do for you?” and “Dude WTF” and “I’m ready to stab you if I need to” all mixed together.
Dude was shaved bald and had jailhouse tattoos all over his arms. And he was crosseyed. Now, I got no beef with people being crosseyed. They can’t help it anymore than I can help having freckles. But damn. That’s one hell of a combination, especially combined with how hard he was trying to get into my house.
He goes, “I’m just, I mean I WAS just gonna leave my card but um hey, I got this business and-”
“Yeah,” I interrupted. “Kinda in the middle of something here,” as I’m closing the door.
“Ok, I’ll come back.”
What? No seriously, what? Nothing in my demeanor could have POSSIBLY suggested anything positive was going to come from further interaction.
“No. No, thank you.” Close and lock door.
Anticlimactic, I know.