Four people just came to the door.
Now I know this not because I opened the door to see what they wanted, but because I peeped stealthily through the blinds for I am a coward.
My initial instinct was “oh heck, I don’t want to be stuck on the doorstep for hours in my pink Eeyore pyjamas scattered with cute hearts, trying to escape talking about God. I’ll just hide here all nice and safe and cosy and hope they go away”
My reasoning for this was that surely they were all dressed far too flowery and smartly to be wandering around our streets at ten in the morning, and besides, at least two were wearing hats. Not just any old hats though, no baseball caps, or those “amusing” crusty jester hats, or even a nice practical hat to keep the ears warm, but the kind of formal hat I tend to associate with churchgoing on Sundays. And thus did the people wearing them worry me.
Quincy did his “I’m a big fearful scary dog” impression for me and eventually they went away.
I carried on sneaking a peek and soon felt justified in my decision to remain covert as they were quite obviously going door to door through the neighbourhood. I sat and peered through the blind, trying hard not to be obvious while the cold slats brushed my nose and I watched them bravely pick their way through the neighbour’s yard and try the house across the street. I also watched them try a couple of places down the road before they came back and gathered outside my abode and sanctuary once more.
I especially kept watching them when one of the ladies took a great interest in our mailbox. You remember our mailbox? It’s the one covered over with red bricks almost to the point of overkill. You know, the scary one that provides a home to black widows and an army of killer ants. Anyhow, amazed, I watched as this lady lifted up her arms to the sky and to the mailbox, almost as if to bless (or curse) the box. The group then said a few words and continued up the street.