Sunday, May 17, 2009

Within An Inch from Death

I finally got my family trained. They know that when I work a stretch of 2 days or more, I am not to be disturbed during the day because I am sleeping. During that time, I value sleeping more than I value life itself, so unless you've had a limb severed, don't call me. On second thought, just wrap a towel around your bloody stump, put your severed limb in a plastic bag and call an ambulance. Call me when you get out of surgery, and pray to God that I'm not sleeping at the time you call.

So today, I was sleeping soundly, until the doorbell rang. With the ringing of the doorbell, Sam goes apeshit. I have no choice but to get out of bed. I throw on my robe, and stumble down the stairs in a half-awake stupor thinking it's Monday.

On my porch was a young guy, maybe in his early twenties. He announces that he just moved into the area, and is going around meeting all the neighbors. I grunt in reply.

He then begins his well-rehearsed speech on magazine sales. Something, something about winning enough points to go on a trip.

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?" he asks eagerly.

Seriously? Are we really going to do this?? Did he not notice that I obviously just came out of a coma???

"Back to bed." I replied sourly.

He laughs. Then he begins talking again. A normal person would assess the situation, understand that this is obviously a bad time to be peddling magazines, and excuse himself. A person with survival instincts would know that he was ten seconds from having his head ripped off his body and fed to a small, bushy, white dog, and run away. Not this kid.

Slowly, my brain starts working and I come to understand many things all at once.

First, red flags go off because I've heard reports of scam artists going door-to-door, selling magazines that you will pay too much for, and never receive one issue of.

Second, it's Sunday. Who the hell does this pinhead think he is, coming to my house to "sell" me overpriced magazines on a Sunday?

Third, it's 3pm. My alarm is set to go off at 4pm. Meaning that I stand no chance of falling back asleep once I ditch the assclown. So, not only has this fucker woke me up to try to get me to buy a fake magazine subscription, he has cheated me out of an hour of sleep.

That's grounds for castration.

I tell him I'm not interested. He's apparently deaf, too, because he just drones on, asking me what my favorite magazine is.

I just glare at him. Undeterred, he asks the question again.

I respond by slamming the door in his face. Dickhead.

I tried to get my hour of sleep back. I failed miserably.

I need to find one of those signs that says, "No Soliciting" to hang on my front door. Do those really help? Last week, some pinhead came and tried to sell me a home security system. This week it's magazines. Because they come in threes, I fully expect the Jehovah's Witnesses to make and appearance before the end of the month.


Donna said...

Thanks for reminding me that there really ARE some benefits to living in the country.

And if I had been in your shoes? I would have slammed the door in his face. Ask my husband. I'm pretty much of a bitch in situations like that. Or ask the neighbors.

No, wait; please don't.

Candice said...

What's my favorite magazine?

I would have said something totally inappropriate here just for the shock factor.

However, slamming the door in his face worked just as well.

bobbie said...

Here's your sign...

"No, I don't want a magazine; I'm trying to save the rain forests.
No, I don't need to have my carpets cleaned; I have a large, furry white dog whose hair covers up the dirt.
No, I don't want to buy any candy or cookes; I'm anorexic.
No, I don't want to be saved; I'm cold blooded, and I want to finally be warm enough."

IDigSmartLadies said...

When the JW's show up, ask them how their religion handles goat sacrifices. Explain how over time, you've found the meat of the goats to be quite tasty, and how it would be irreconcilable for you to participate in a religion that doesn't allow for your utterly perfect union of religion and food.

mike said...

We just wrote No Soliciting on a sheet of paper with a sharpie and taped it to the door. No one comes by anymore.