|"We just moved in and they're already bringing us cookies. Everything's going according to plan."|
Henry Ford once said, "Coming together is a beginning; keeping together is progress; working together is success."
So the only true and steadfast conclusion I can draw is that Mr. Ford was never a housewife who had to humor a door-to-door security system salesman, while kicking her kids behind the door with her foot and missing. Any mother worth her salt knows the minute the door opens, young children try to flee to the streets like they've just received an invitation to method act in the universe's next production of Annie.
The saddest part of the whole thing was my lack of bra. Then again, I don't wear one on days that end in "y," so I'm being caught unawares with a regularity that would give the owner of bran flakes a run for his money.
Getting dressed has been low in the sea of priorities that is unpacking, cleaning, and trying to remember to set up a new water account so we can flush the toilet. This has made it super easy for the welcome wagon to arrive and wonder if I spend most of my life in a baggy sweatshirt, hunched over so they don't get a free shot of whatever sad business I have going on under there. I have a terrible habit of underestimating the kindness of strangers, and forget that not everyone lives like a hermit, buying milk only under the cover of night. The good news is, this neighborhood not only seems to be filled with nice people, they have a legitimate plan for making me feel welcome. I'm not sure how to deal with that.
Neighborhood welcome committee:
"So, you're the new people?"
"Well, if they didn't leave you the key to the mail, just let me know and I'll take care of it."
"Thanks, that's really nice of you, but I can always talk to the post offi-."
"No. No. I've gotcha. Been the post man forever. Oh, and if you get lost, the hall bathroom's the first door on your right."
"Hi there. We're your neighbor's on the opposite driveway."
"Right across to the left?"
"Right across to the right."
"I didn't do well in college algebra. Thanks for bringing popcorn though."
"I could tell by your picture of Jesus."
"We like Him. Not sure that print does Him justice though. Whether He that much of a go-tee is up for debate. Is this butter and caramel?"
"I used to be Catholic."
"Ooh, and cinnamon. Well, the good news is, there's enough popcorn here to sink the Titanic, so I'll be too busy eating to convert you back."
"Hi! We're across the fence. I just baked some chocolate chip cookies and thought you guys would like some."
"Can you hold on for a second?"
"I need to add you to my will. Was that Sherri with two "i"s?"
"We hope you guys are happy here."
"We're mostly shooting for mildly content, but thank you."
"The last people kept to themselves. Didn't see them all that much, so it's nice to see you all move in. This is my daughter."
*Side conversation start*
"Hi. Your kids are so cute. I'd love to babysit, if you ever need me."
"I admire your optimism. Have you been through Navy Seal training?"
"Nevermind. We'll talk specifics later."
The FedEx Guy:
*Drops box* "I guess you guys are my new people."
"I guess so."
"I feel like I should apologize. Two packages in a week and all."
*Clomps back to truck.*
"Just think of yourself as our cardboard-bearing spirit animal!
The moral of the story is that you can't be a hermit in a village that demands to see the hermit, and pulls her, bra-less, from her cave of reading and Gilmore Girls marathons. Which means I probably should go out and buy a few new boulder holders.
Or, I'll just have them FedExed.
Until Next Time, Readers!
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