Open Door Policy

Back at the very beginning of this blog, I had a really really tired day. I was tired partly because I had just spent the day taking F to a sleep specialist (the irony!) where he behaved TERRIBLY. The sleep guy said there was nothing amiss and sent us on our way after a $40 co-pay and a 45-minute wait in the waiting room and an hour-long consultation that consisted of him asking me all the same questions that I had already answered on the written questionaire they had mailed to me in advance.  Helpful.

When I got home, the front door to our house was wiiiide open.  Our front door faces the street and we do not have a deep front yard, so plenty of walkers/joggers passed within about fifteen feet of the door to our living room.  Rather than continuing to pull into the driveway, I straightened out and drove down the street a little ways and parked in front of a friend's house.  This friend/neighbor is also F's preschool teacher, and I was fairly sure she'd be home at that time, unlike most of our normal 9-5 working neighbors, since preschool only had a half-day that day.  So I take F and J up to her door and ring the bell and, when I explain to her husband what has transpired and ask if he will watch the boys for a minute while I go check things out, he says "Umm, why don't you come in for just a second?"  F's teacher is also home, and she also says to come in.  I say "no, no--it's alright, I just need someone to know what's up and to watch the boys for a minute or two."  After all, I'm tired but also don't want to interfere with their home life.  So Adam, the husband, says "No, really--I think you should come in for a minute."  Err.  I am not completely stupid socially, and I catch the look they are both trying to give me so I'm like "oh, okay--let's go in."  Well.  Turns out there was some sort of SWAT team (guns drawn, body armor and helmets on, jumping off a truck in and organized and rapid fashion, etc.) fanning out over a nearby park a few hours ago, but no news yet why.

Also, that morning when I had taken F to preschool, there was a pickup truck just sitting, parked, in front of my house with a dude in it reading the newspaper.  This is odd but, y'know, people run early for appointments, they need to pull over to make a phone call, WHATEVER.  I'm not saying we live in the big city, but we don't live in the suburbs, so there is traffic that moves through our neighborhood and strange vehicles are not out of the question.  BUT, it was noteworthy enough that I, er, made a note of it and made a point of looking at the license plate and the bumper stickers and make/model whathaveyou.  So, y'know, when the earnest but life-weary female special agent with wispy blonde hair has to hypnotize me and "take me back to that time when I was looking at the truck," I could recall it all with a gasp of clarity and the criminal would be identified CASE CLOSED.

So, that pickup combined with my neighbors telling me that there was some sort of search going down in our 'hood was enough to make us decide to just hang out until the police could come have a look-see and make sure everything was ok before me going back in the house.  To shorten this story a bit: we call the non-emergency number, we wait; we wait some more; and then some more; we call again and they say that dispatch never relayed the message and will send someone out; so we wait just a little longer; altogether we wait for about two hours before the cops pull up, by which time is it ABUNDANTLY clear that there is no one in the house or else they are the stupidest criminals ever for not leaving by now.  Or at least closing the door, since it's, like, 30-degrees outside.  I usually turn the heat off in the house before I leave for a long time because our house is old and drafty and expensive to heat.  So at least I've got that going for me.

Of course, I am feeling like a COMPLETE IDIOT at this point because I have inconvenienced sooo many people all because I FORGOT TO PULL THE DOOR CLOSED when I left. But anyway, there's still the teensiest chance that something might be amiss and better safe than sorry and blah blah blah.
The cops arrive and tell me to wait while they go in.  They look around the house with their flashlights on, calling out before entering each room, totally creeping me out because that is not something you ever want to see going down at your own house.  And of course there is nothing obviously weird inside.  The back door is closed and locked, my computer and video camera are right out in the open, nothing is messed up, I'm just an idiot.  I apologize to everyone, they are all very nice, and then I go retrieve my children, apologize some more, and go home to my very very cold house where it is past the baby's nap time, too late to start dinner, etc. etc.  While I was checking out the house in the presence of the police, the neighbor across the street calls (WHILE THE POLICE ARE IN THE HOUSE--HE IS AN IDIOT). I don't answer (DING DONG The police are in my living room HALLO) so the machine picks up and he leaves some incomprehensible string of jibberish including call him back but he doesn't leave his number and just randomly hangs up without closing the call (good bye, hope everything's ok, call if you need anything, I'm just being really nosy, etc.).  So at that point I am fully aware that I am going to have to recount this story to all the neighbors so as to reassure them that nothing ghastly happened, that I am, in fact, just spacey.

So that is the day I wrote the second post on this blog. Goddamn depressing is what it is.  And, a few days later, I followed it up with a request for a muffin recipe. HA ahahahahahahaha. LIFE.

P.S.  Anyone know why "irrelevant" is misspelled in the url for that muffin recipe post, but not in the actual post title?  If blogger is going to sabotage my effort to learn how to spell THAT word too, then I will be spelling it "irreluvunt" from here on out.