The Swindler at the Door

I hate it when strangers come to my door. Mostly it’s people wanting to clean my carpet or asking me to put a sign in my yard saying I support Measure A or whatever. I hate them all. They turn me in to a hater. I get this icy glaze over my eyes, I answer questions with one-word sentences, and while they gab I am plotting my attack strategy should they turn out to be evil home invaders who try to break through the front door. And yes, I really do worry about that. More now than ever before because now I have a kid in my house, so I will be forced to fight you to the death should you try to harm us. And I’m a mom. We can lift cars off our children. I’m just saying, think twice before you break into my house.

My hair is always this full and luxurious.

But aside from the potential of being savagely murdered in my entryway, I hate them because the first thing they say is “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.” And I stupidly mumble something about how I guess I have a minute, because I’m a wimp. But really, it’s always a bad time. Sometimes I’m working from home and have yet to get dressed, so there I am in a T-shirt and sweats with no bra. That’s a bad time.

Once Sally, then about 18 months, was screaming from her high chair “I’m hungry NOW!” while some guy tried to . . . I have no idea what he was trying to get me to do. I just know he was deaf to the obviously starving child in the next room. This weekend a woman tried to get me to sign up for a yard sign even though she could see as she approached our door that we were in the midst of opening presents at my husband’s birthday party. She said “I can see you’re busy” and then. Kept. Talking. Yes, I am busy, and by the way, this is why God invented computers–so we wouldn’t have to talk face-to-face anymore.

I made a rule at some point that I won’t contribute to any cause at the door. I will accept information from you, look it over and consider the cause when I make my charitable contribution decisions. Doesn’t that sound level-headed? I thought the door-to-door creeps would be happy about this — after all, I’m not saying no and slamming the door in your face — but they honestly look annoyed. It’s that look when . . . oh I know, like when someone comes to your door while you’re potty training your kid and proceeds to talk to you about God knows what while your kid runs, bottomless, through the house dripping urine everywhere. You know that look?

The only person in recent history for whom I’ve made an exception to this policy is the town’s high school quarterback. He was fund raising for the team. I don’t care who you are, you can’t resist a quarterback. They’re adorable and I dreamed for a second he might ask me to prom. I bought a $20 coupon book I never used.

I know what you’re thinking: Why don’t we just NOT answer the door? We did that at our old house. Mr. Embee and I would mute the TV when we heard someone walking up the 70-year-old front steps, and if we slouched down on the couch, there was no way even the tallest person could see us through the tiny window in the front door. But our current house is kind of like an aquarium. You can see the entire first floor, including the kitchen filth, as you walk up to the house. The only way to hide would be to somehow sense trouble and yell “Hit the Deck!” to get the entire family to drop to the ground. Which I think would be kind of fun. But sort of unreasonable.

Anyway, if you are not a serial killer and I’ve been rude to you at my front door, I’m sorry. Kind of. But come on, the door-to-door thing is so last century. Get a Twitter account already.

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Mom-Colored Glasses is super full of herself now — I have products! Still looking for a Mother’s Day gift? How about a Mom-Colored Glasses mug? Come on, tell the world you spend naptime reading blogs.

Purple Glasses mug and Wedgie mug

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