Why I Shroud Myself in Mystery

The computer is up and running again - sorry for the slight delay. (Unfortunately my iTunes got wiped in the process, so I have to reload every CD. I would curse, but it is still early in the day.)

Oh, boy - are you ready for this story?

Last Thursday Morning - 11:45 AM
I am upstairs in the office ironing sheets. (Yes, I iron my sheets.) I had just finished with the top sheet and draped it over the banister at the top of the stairs so I could start working on the wrinkles in the fitted sheet. Which is exactly what I was doing while on the phone with my dad. . .

Daddy: Happy anniversary
lada: Thanks!
Daddy: What are you doing?
lada: Ironing sheets
Daddy: You iron your sheets?
lada: You know how the edges fold over and get all wrinkly? I hate that. So, I iron them. Does that make me weird?
Daddy: Not necessarily. Do you iron them everyday?
lada: Ah! No, I'm no that OCD.

. . . when the doorbell rings. I glance out the window and see a white van in the driveway. My dad offers to let me go so I can answer the door, but I never answer the door if I don't know who it is - most especially when I am in pajamas. Besides, it is only the Direct TV guy who is annoying because this is not the first time he has appeared at my door unexpectedly. He can come back later.

SIDEBAR: A couple weeks ago when our Direct TV was being set up, the installers accidentally left behind one of their tools. They stopped by the house a couple days later unannounced and since we were not home, one of them called and left us a message saying he was "standing outside waiting for his tool," could we please answer the door? They were gone by the time we got home - that day.

The guy rings the doorbell a second time. The dogs are going ballistic. Then he knocks. I comment to my dad how this guys is persistent - "two rings and a knock, he'll probably call next" - and sure enough, a few moments later the call waiting beeps. Dad again offers to let me go, but if I answer the phone the guy will know I am home; so I ignore it. Finally, the van leaves and a few minutes later I finish up the loving phone call.

For some odd reason the dogs are still barking like mad, so I walk out of the office onto the landing to see what is agitating them. I look over the banister, down to the foyer and see through the mini-window next to the front door a man. Well, to be more specific I see the top of the hat that he is wearing. The Direct TV guy appears to be sitting next to my front door! I dart back into the safety of the office to assess my situation - meaning I pace around and get all worked up.

This idiot shows up unannounced to my house and thinks he is just going to chill on my porch until I get home!? He actually sent away his partner in the van and is just going to wait for what could be hours and hours!? Should I just open the door and say I was in the shower the whole time? Should I call him back from my cell and pretend like I am out of town? Should I call the police?

I decide to try and get a better look at the fellow. I steal a hasty glance out the office window but can't see anything. I leave the room again and lucky for me, the sheet hanging over the banister provides a waist high barrier for me to hide behind. So, down on my hands and knees, I crawl across the landing to the bedroom on the other side of the house. (You're picturing this, right?) I try peeking out the window but still can't get the right angle to see onto the front porch. I scan the streets of the neighborhood instead, expecting to see the white van camped out up the street doing long range surveillance. But, since the van is nowhere to be seen, I decide I am up against amateurs.

I crawl back across the hall and weigh my options. There is no way this guy is going to flush me out. I have a book, I have my phone, I have a bathroom. I will just sit up here until Russ gets home in about six hours. It will be a long wait, but worse for him sitting outside. That will show Mr. Direct TV.

I use my phone to check my email (PC was still fried at this point) and send a couple text messages. The dogs alternate between sitting quietly in with me and pacing the landing barking at the intruder. It has been forty minutes and I am starting to wish I had eaten breakfast because now it is time for lunch and I can't get to the kitchen without going downstairs and walking right past the window he is gaurding. This is going to be a long day.

I eventually get tired of phone Tetris and decide to sneak out and get another look at the enemy. I crawl back out on the landing and get down on my belly, straight commando style. I take hold of the sheet as close to the floor as possible and pull it back an eyeball measure. There he is (the top of his hat). It is kind of moving up around, as though he is bouncing on his heels. Suddenly the hat starts to turn around, like he can sense me staring at the back of his head.

It turns and I see written across the top "Happy Anniversary"

I realize it is a balloon.

I run downstairs and open the front door to find a beautiful flower arrangement my parents sent us with a heart shaped helium balloon floating above it.

I am an idiot.

Held hostage by flowers.

Long story short
Thanks everyone for the anniversary wishes. Russ says after three years, he has finally figured out one wife. So, he is ready for polygamy if anyone wants to volunteer.

Quote of the day - Matt R: If I were a plumber. . . I would find me a man and treat him so good his pipes would never leak. But I am not a plumber so I will sing my song and with that I will be happy. If only I knew what that was. But I am drunk.

- a lada is worth a thousand words