Out-gooding the Missionaries
The major milestones for any new homeowner: closing the house purchase, first night spent at the new place, the first meal cooked, the first piece of mail with your name actually on it, the first friends over to visit — all those things.
And then there are other things: the first phone call from a collections agency tracking down the previous owner of your new phone number, the first home repair, and, of course, the first Mormon and/or Jehovah's Witness missionaries.
I spotted them zig-zagging amongst the townhouse doors as I arrived back home from a trip to the bank yesterday.
A pair of men who are obviously not personal friends, a couple, or tradesmen — check.
Matching black suits — check.
Matching little black books — check.
Not sure which specific group they were actually from, but really, when you think about it, the only way any of them is much different than the others is the contents of whatever particular little black book they're clutching.
Unable to help myself, I forced a giant ear to ear grin, and, in a voice oozing with as much saccharine chipperness as I could muster, chirped out, "Hi guys! How's it going! Great sunny day isn't it?"
You'd have thought I'd just dropped trousers and flashed them.
One of the guys even turned around to confirm that I wasn't actually greeting someone behind him.
"Uh, hello. Hi."
They then glanced at each other, looked back at me, and promptly turned around a walked briskly away.
I spotted them later on still knocking on each of the neighbours' doors, but they never ventured back to mine.
And then there are other things: the first phone call from a collections agency tracking down the previous owner of your new phone number, the first home repair, and, of course, the first Mormon and/or Jehovah's Witness missionaries.
I spotted them zig-zagging amongst the townhouse doors as I arrived back home from a trip to the bank yesterday.
A pair of men who are obviously not personal friends, a couple, or tradesmen — check.
Matching black suits — check.
Matching little black books — check.
Not sure which specific group they were actually from, but really, when you think about it, the only way any of them is much different than the others is the contents of whatever particular little black book they're clutching.
Unable to help myself, I forced a giant ear to ear grin, and, in a voice oozing with as much saccharine chipperness as I could muster, chirped out, "Hi guys! How's it going! Great sunny day isn't it?"
You'd have thought I'd just dropped trousers and flashed them.
One of the guys even turned around to confirm that I wasn't actually greeting someone behind him.
"Uh, hello. Hi."
They then glanced at each other, looked back at me, and promptly turned around a walked briskly away.
I spotted them later on still knocking on each of the neighbours' doors, but they never ventured back to mine.