One Saturday morning last summer, I was the only one up in the house. I never get those mornings. So I decided to watch a movie. On our big flat screen TV. A TV that can be seen at least a mile away. In a living room that my husband likes to refer to as “the fish bowl.”
I have gotten into the habit of not getting dressed when we have no plans on a Saturday. I know. It’s not a very good habit. This was my attire this one specific morning: T-shirt. Underwear. If you show up at my house on a Saturday, I can’t promise you I’ll be decent. You might want to call first.
So there I was watching a movie, minding my own business when the doorbell rings. Picture this: one 45 year old woman wearing a t-shirt and underwear nose diving onto the floor face down. Then crawling by the front door, a front door that has windows on either side, through the foyer and into the kitchen. All done in military style. You would have had to be Ray Charles not to have seen me.
So, who was interrupting my Saturday morning? Jehovah’s Witnesses. I know this because I looked at them as I was crawling past the door. 2 of them. They must think they are like a bag of Lays… one just isn’t enough.
As a parting gift, they got a very nice shot of my ass. I’m pretty sure the image was burned into their corneas. They never came back. I think what they saw scared them straight off our street. You’re welcome neighbors. You owe me.