I went to get the mail the other afternoon, which in our neighborhood means going to the end of the street to a community mailbox. On my walk there, I passed a man who was going in and out of people's yards. He was maybe in his late 20s/early 30s and I just assumed he was checking the meters for the electric company. I thought nothing of seeing him walk up my driveway right before returning to my house, as I figured he'd walk to the meter and continue on his way.
Nope. He was standing at my front door when I arrived and didn't look like he planned to leave any time soon. I'm not a social person by any stretch of the imagination, especially after a long day at my socially demanding job. When I'm just dashing down to get the mail in a ratty t-shirt and old shorts, this is even more true. The man, who was hovering over me at well over 6 feet tall, explained that our neighbor across the street had quite the cockroach infestation and that he had just finished spraying their house. He pointed to their house and gave their name. If I were in their shoes, which the man continued to explain that I may soon be, the last thing I would want was someone going around telling all my neighbors that my house is swarming with cockroaches!
My patience for socializing was shot. I told the guy that my husband takes care of spraying our house for bugs, but that if he wanted to leave some information, I'd be happy to pass it on. He asked if he could speak to him. "Oh, no," I said. "He's gone on a business trip right now." To which the little part of my brain that likes being safe and alive yelled out to me:
Hey moron! How about we try not announcing to strange, chemical-wielding men that we're home all alone?!
I hastily threw in "but he'll be home tonight!" An odd look crossed the guy's face, and he said "That'll be nice. I bet you're really excited." Clearly, I was not the only socially-challenged one in our conversation.
Our Little Neighborhood of Creepy Crawly Horrors