Saturday, January 10, 2004
What the hell? At 2 p.m. Friday afternoon my dog started barking. I trounced downstairs to find three ethnically ambiguous, rather big and burly strange men standing in my kitchen. The scene was so surreal that I didn't even bother to fire up the neurons as to why this was so. The how , however, was easy. I always, until 2:12 p.m. Friday afternoon, left all my doors unlocked. I am simply not hard-wired to think that anything bad is ever going to happen and if it is meant to happen then a locked door probably won't prevent it from happening.
No it was not brain neurons, but adrenalin that fired up in me at that particular moment. Adrenalin revs up your body to either fight or flee. Inexplicably, my 125-pound small-boned frame inevitably chooses fight over flight. I have chosen the later course of action on some occasions but on this one I felt absolutely no fear in spite of a cummulative 550 lb. advantage standing across from me. So what? I think. They are just boys.
The first order of the day is to gain the psychological upper-hand as quickly as possible. The barking dog was helping me in this area because in reality the odds were heavily stacked in the three men's favor; I frankly would not have stood much of a chance had they had any sinister plans. I establish direct eye contact with whom I perceive is the alpha male. I stare directly at him. And then I don the 'look' that has up until this point in my life withered a petulant husband and offspring alike for over twenty years. "What are you doing here? May I help you?"
"You told us the door would be unlocked and to come in," says the alpha male.
"No I think you are mistaken. I told you no such thing." I smile as if it is a common occurrence for there to be such a misunderstanding and that three BIG men should be standing in my kitchen uninvited. I glance outside the window and notice a big white truck blocking my driveway. "What house were you looking for?" I demand. I make no attempt to stop my dog's barking and she is taking full advantage of the fact that she is not, as usual, being admonished for making such a racket. The pitch of her bark alone would be enough to drive anyone away.
"This is 3 JohnDoe Street, right?" says the alpha male a bit more tentatively.
"No. That would be the house next door." I begin moving toward the kitchen door so that they will get the idea that they too should be moving toward the kitchen door. Apologies, so-sorry's, and sheepish smiles exit out to the bitter cold. "Please move your truck right away if you don't mind. I will be leaving in a few minutes."
Life is often a funny chain of events. What if I had not decided at the last minute to stay home to work? My house would have been open. The three men would have mistakenly walked into my house. The dog would have not barked so bravely with me not around to impress. Consequently, I guess one of three things could have happened: 1) They would have figured out that they were in the wrong house and left 2) They would have noticed that they were in a nice yuppy-ish house and helped themselves to the wares, or 3) they would have ripped out my kitchen under the assumption that they were at the right house and this was the kitchen they were supposed to renovate. It is the fourth 'thing' that now makes me lock the door.... What if it had been 3 p.m. instead of 2 p.m. and my drop-dead gorgeous seventeen-year-old daughter would have been home alone when they came in?
No it was not brain neurons, but adrenalin that fired up in me at that particular moment. Adrenalin revs up your body to either fight or flee. Inexplicably, my 125-pound small-boned frame inevitably chooses fight over flight. I have chosen the later course of action on some occasions but on this one I felt absolutely no fear in spite of a cummulative 550 lb. advantage standing across from me. So what? I think. They are just boys.
The first order of the day is to gain the psychological upper-hand as quickly as possible. The barking dog was helping me in this area because in reality the odds were heavily stacked in the three men's favor; I frankly would not have stood much of a chance had they had any sinister plans. I establish direct eye contact with whom I perceive is the alpha male. I stare directly at him. And then I don the 'look' that has up until this point in my life withered a petulant husband and offspring alike for over twenty years. "What are you doing here? May I help you?"
"You told us the door would be unlocked and to come in," says the alpha male.
"No I think you are mistaken. I told you no such thing." I smile as if it is a common occurrence for there to be such a misunderstanding and that three BIG men should be standing in my kitchen uninvited. I glance outside the window and notice a big white truck blocking my driveway. "What house were you looking for?" I demand. I make no attempt to stop my dog's barking and she is taking full advantage of the fact that she is not, as usual, being admonished for making such a racket. The pitch of her bark alone would be enough to drive anyone away.
"This is 3 JohnDoe Street, right?" says the alpha male a bit more tentatively.
"No. That would be the house next door." I begin moving toward the kitchen door so that they will get the idea that they too should be moving toward the kitchen door. Apologies, so-sorry's, and sheepish smiles exit out to the bitter cold. "Please move your truck right away if you don't mind. I will be leaving in a few minutes."
Life is often a funny chain of events. What if I had not decided at the last minute to stay home to work? My house would have been open. The three men would have mistakenly walked into my house. The dog would have not barked so bravely with me not around to impress. Consequently, I guess one of three things could have happened: 1) They would have figured out that they were in the wrong house and left 2) They would have noticed that they were in a nice yuppy-ish house and helped themselves to the wares, or 3) they would have ripped out my kitchen under the assumption that they were at the right house and this was the kitchen they were supposed to renovate. It is the fourth 'thing' that now makes me lock the door.... What if it had been 3 p.m. instead of 2 p.m. and my drop-dead gorgeous seventeen-year-old daughter would have been home alone when they came in?
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