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We have this little flappy thing that goes over the keyhole in our front door. Neither of us like it, because it's really annoying to have to pull it out of the way before you can unlock the door. We hadn't been here a week before I came up with the solution--flip it counter-clockwise all the way up until it lands on the doorknob itself, which would be on its way back down. (It's hard to explain. Did you get it?) Anyway, that solved the problem and we have generally not thought about it again. Until this week, when I came home from work to find that the Jehovah's Witnesses had come to pay a call in our absence, and left their pamphlet between the storm door and the wooden door. (I referred to it as propaganda when I told this story to M, but I guess that's not so nice. I don't care who you are, though: if you want me to give you my money or my soul, don't call me, I'll call you.) And... they had flipped the keyhole cover back in place.
Maybe it's just me, but that really creeped me out. I don't want anyone that I don't know coming to my house and fondling my door, and especially not the lock of said door. Did they also try to come in? How would I know? They sure as hell caressed the lock! M was pissed when he heard that it was between the doors, and they had opened the storm door. That didn't bother me too badly because.. well, we also have a giant brass knocker on the door, which they couldn't get to if they didn't open the storm door. (We also have a doorbell, though. A lovely doorbell, actually.) But my lock. DON'T TOUCH THE LOCK. Is that too much to ask?
(If I KNOW you, I don't care if you touch my lock. So don't be thinking you can come over and stand outside pestering me by touching the lock. I will just think you're weird, but not particularly creepy. Then I will offer you a brochure entitled "The Watchtower".)
That reminds me of the bedposts. I had the frilly white furniture when I lived with my parents. It had a tall posts to support a canopy, but most of the time I had the canopy off. The posts were not nearly as sturdy as they should have been, though, and one of them was downright broken. However, people seem to have a natural inclination to lean on tall things, or hold on to the bedpost while talking, or any number of obnoxious things. By the time M met me and my bed for the first time--make of that what you will--I had become somewhat obsessive about the damned thing. "DON'T TOUCH THE POLE!" I would say, twitching. Honestly, I had forgotten about it until my parents brought the bedroom suite to me when we moved, for the guest room, and M grinned mischievously at me and told me to stop touching the pole... then it all came back. Right now the canopy is on the bed because we expected that our first real visitor would be B, M's best friend, and we couldn't wait to deposit him in a room with white furniture trimmed in gold, with a mauve bedspread and canopy, dripping with ivory lace. Then we would remove it on his last day, just so he would know that it was all for his benefit. Maybe this is why he hasn't come to visit, now that I think on it, since we do things like this. Anyway, the canopy has the added benefit of making the poles a little more stable, which--as you might expect--also makes me a little more stable.
But.. I don't know if I'm supposed to mention this or not, but I recently heard that there was a 75% chance that someone else might be staying in said room before B, and very soon. I just hope she doesn't touch the poles...
Maybe it's just me, but that really creeped me out. I don't want anyone that I don't know coming to my house and fondling my door, and especially not the lock of said door. Did they also try to come in? How would I know? They sure as hell caressed the lock! M was pissed when he heard that it was between the doors, and they had opened the storm door. That didn't bother me too badly because.. well, we also have a giant brass knocker on the door, which they couldn't get to if they didn't open the storm door. (We also have a doorbell, though. A lovely doorbell, actually.) But my lock. DON'T TOUCH THE LOCK. Is that too much to ask?
(If I KNOW you, I don't care if you touch my lock. So don't be thinking you can come over and stand outside pestering me by touching the lock. I will just think you're weird, but not particularly creepy. Then I will offer you a brochure entitled "The Watchtower".)
That reminds me of the bedposts. I had the frilly white furniture when I lived with my parents. It had a tall posts to support a canopy, but most of the time I had the canopy off. The posts were not nearly as sturdy as they should have been, though, and one of them was downright broken. However, people seem to have a natural inclination to lean on tall things, or hold on to the bedpost while talking, or any number of obnoxious things. By the time M met me and my bed for the first time--make of that what you will--I had become somewhat obsessive about the damned thing. "DON'T TOUCH THE POLE!" I would say, twitching. Honestly, I had forgotten about it until my parents brought the bedroom suite to me when we moved, for the guest room, and M grinned mischievously at me and told me to stop touching the pole... then it all came back. Right now the canopy is on the bed because we expected that our first real visitor would be B, M's best friend, and we couldn't wait to deposit him in a room with white furniture trimmed in gold, with a mauve bedspread and canopy, dripping with ivory lace. Then we would remove it on his last day, just so he would know that it was all for his benefit. Maybe this is why he hasn't come to visit, now that I think on it, since we do things like this. Anyway, the canopy has the added benefit of making the poles a little more stable, which--as you might expect--also makes me a little more stable.
But.. I don't know if I'm supposed to mention this or not, but I recently heard that there was a 75% chance that someone else might be staying in said room before B, and very soon. I just hope she doesn't touch the poles...
