Bells Are…Ringing

My doorbell rang, weakly, today. It wasn’t the first ring of the day. Working full time from home, it’s a little shocking to me how many robo calls come through all day long, and how many times the doorbell rings.
It’s a surprise that my doorbell sounds at all. About a year ago, I was traumatized for a few days by random and mysterious doorbell rings. They scared the wits out of me, especially when the doorbell suddenly sounded repeatedly very late at night, two nights in a row, and no-one was at the door. Having a vastly overactive imagination, I was pretty convinced I was being haunted by a wrathful wraith, aka an angry ghost. I was all ready to burn some sage, get out the Ouija board and/or sell my house, when it was suggested that perhaps my doorbell was dying. This turned out to be the correct answer. Well, actually, it was only sick.
I never really like when the doorbell rings anyway. The dogs go crazy, it’s dog-demonium. If I’m expecting someone, I’ll usually just keep an eye out for them to circumvent that, my house is small, so this can be done from virtually anywhere in the house. I’m not a fan of “drop by” guests, in fact I’m quite opposed to them, so if I missed an unanticipated doorbell ringing guest, no harm, no foul.
For the last year, I have gone without a doorbell. On that long list of things I need to do around the house, but like I said, no hurries, no worries. I didn’t miss it at all. But I was a little freaked out when a couple of weeks ago, my doorbell rang again, with a UPS delivery. Not a robust, full throated BRRRRRRING, more like a mewling kitten with a cough, buuuuuuuuuu-ringgg. Like it had rested for a year and now was feebly wending its way back to me. Buuuuuu-cough-cough-ringggggg.
The first doorbell ring of the morning was a seemingly sweet older woman. I opened my door and she asked to speak to me about the word of Jesus Christ. I politely declined, mentioning that I was Jewish, but she wasn’t satisfied with that, telling me that she had a VERY important message for me. As gently as possible, I said I wasn’t interested and shut the door on her, message undelivered.
A few hours later, my doorbell rang again. This time, it was Jordan, one of the neighborhood girls. On my street, the kids roam in packs, and are always attempting various entrepreneurial projects to make some cash. Jordan’s most frequent cohort is my next door neighbor, Isabella. Isabella has tried various fund raising activities from selling Brach’s candy from a card table in her yard, to peddling car washing and babysitting services. The girls know me to be an easy mark; I bought that darn Brach’s candy and have had my car quite inexpertly washed.
Where Isabella is sweet and clumsy in an adorably nerdy 11 year old way, Jordan is well on her way to being a “cool girl.” Just last week I saw her whizzing by on a skateboard, wearing a white dress, blonde hair streaming in the wind, with a popsicle in her mouth. Cool as a breeze, without a care in the world. I can just imagine what she’ll be as a teenager, pretty, confident, sharp as a tack. God help us!
Anyway, Jordan was ringing the bell, and as I opened it I saw she was holding a cardboard box in front of her, hanging from her neck much like a cigar girl would hold a case in old movies. In the box were two egg cartons and an empty can.
Wanna buy some eggs?
That had me flummoxed. First of all, I have a carton of eggs in my fridge with 2 eggs removed, about to go past the sell-by date. My egg consumption is low! And, being a little food phobic, I kind of wanted to know more about these eggs she was peddling.
Did they come from your chickens?
Okay, well then I’m not sure because see I already have eggs and they’re about to go bad and I really don’t use that many eggs and…
She held up her hand to stop me.
Okay, it’s cool.
And with that, I felt like I had been schooled! By a slightly bitchy confidently assured 11 year old. Fortunately, Isabella was lurking on the sidewalk, so I got this as they walked up the street to their next customer/client/victim:
The eggs came from my friend’s babysitter, they have too many eggs, I’m gonna make a cake. Bye!
And with that, they were gone. But, thank goodness the doorbell, weak as it was, had heralded their arrival. And that it wasn’t a ghost!
The end, for now

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