Knocking On Doors

It’s a little weird around here, as Kathy continues to recover, and I had my little bout of whatever the hell got me yesterday.

“You should try eating dry toast, or rice, something bland,” Nurse Kathy said.

“Nah, I’m going pasta,” I said, “It’s never failed me.”

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“Wrote a whole book about it.”

And there was a knock at the door. Sam responded, and said: 

“She wants to speak to the home owner.”

I headed to the door, and a peppy young girl asked me if it was a good time to talk.

“Depends what we’re talking about,” I said.

She asked me if I’ve enjoyed paying my electric bill lately, and asked if I ever considered adding solar panels.

I knew that she was wasting her time with me. I’m not adding solar panels, but I listened and spoke nicely.

She finished it all up in about ten minutes, and promised to email me more information.

“Great. Have a nice day,” I said.

When I returned to the family area Kathy and Sam were having a conversation about I’m a nice guy because I didn’t just shoo her away.

“She’s just doing a job,” I said.

“I know,” Sam said, “But in this day and age, knocking on people’s doors will get you abused, or shot. I bet she’s had a miserable day.”

Which, sadly, is most likely true.

“People don’t want to be bothered at home anymore,” Kathy said.

Which is true but when we were young there were people stopping by, selling Avon or vacuums, or encyclopedias.

“It’s a horrible gig,” Sam said, “You were probably the only guy nice to her.”

That’s kinda’ sad.

I’m not buying solar panels…

…but hope she sells a couple.