It’s 8:00AM on a Sunday morning and I have just settled down with a nice cup of Joe. I like to wake up a tad early on the weekend to enjoy the total peace and quiet of my living room before my heard of family and animals awake. Before you know it, Spongebob’s theme song is playing in the back ground and before I know it, I am humming along as I click away at my keyboard while sipping my coffee.
Things were going all as planned this morning. I woke up and started the coffee, grabbed my laptop and went to plop down on the living room couch to enjoy my morning perusing of Facebook and my favorite trashy online magazine, The Daily Mail.
I hear the doorbell ring, which on a Sunday morning in a quiet sleeping house is something like a tsunami siren going off in a town warning the city of the impending doom. ‘AW CRAP!’ was my first thought. I stood there for a split second to enjoy that last millisecond of peace before the dogs came barreling in barking like rabid hyenas to protect me from what stood on the other side of the door.
I opened the door and a nice middle-aged man stood at my doorstep and this is what unfolded:
Nice Middle-Aged Man: Hello, sorry to bother you, but I was supposed to be here at your neighbors house by 8:00am to pick up the rest of their junk left over by their estate sale. They didn’t show up, which is slightly annoying. Anyhow, I noticed that you have some ‘junk bikes’ on the side of your house and was wondering if you would like me to take them off your hands?’
Me: ‘Uhm, wow, well…hummm… Actually, those are our bikes, you know, the bikes we ride and the bikes we paid for… I know they aren’t in the most pristine condition, however, we can still ride them…and would like to keep them…. and continue to ride them…thanks for stopping by… I think?
Nice Middle Aged Man: Okay, no problem, thanks!
As a side/back note, I thought I’d let you know that we live in a neighborhood that is full of people dying left and right. It is beautiful and quiet neighborhood which makes total sense seeing the neighborhood is mainly occupied/lived in by people 90 years of age and up.
We picked this neighborhood because it was near a cross and Justin and I have a thing with picking and choosing homes that are in close proximity to a crucifix. Every house we rent/own must be in close proximity to one—-for one reason or another, it brings us a positive vibe and, well, it just works for us.
The quietness is usually never a downfall. We like peace and quiet, especially in our neighborhood. The only downfall would be for Haydan as there are not a bunch of children to play with. A good example of this was yesterday. Haydan decided to have a type of ‘lemonade stand’ where she was selling blueberry & grape fruit kabobs. I helped her set up a table outside and helped her tape her sign and we ‘set up shop’, so to speak. We sat out there for two hours and not a soul came by to make a purchase. Haydan told me: ‘We probably have no shoppers because all of our old neighbors are probably taking their old people naps.’
She is a smart kid.
Just then, our awesome mail man stopped by to drop off our mail. He actually knows me by name seeing he delivers umpteen packages when I’m on one of my ‘online-shopping benders’ any given week. He got out of his truck and handed off the mail to me and fully engaged in conversation with Haydan about her fruit stand and what she was selling and so on. He was kind enough to buy a kabob and a water. He was even awesome enough to pose for a photo with our little entrepreneur.
Other than that, we had one other senior citizen neighbor of ours pop by and the sweet old lady handed Haydan a dollar through her car window as Haydan delivered her a kabob.
Sad to say, but we are used to the never ending estate sales in our neighborhood. However, this is the first time someone swung by our place to see if we were on our way out to the gates of Heaven so he could snatch up our ‘junk bikes’ and other things these estate salesmen (?) try and take when people die. What’s it with people wanting dead people’s things anyway? Estate sales creep me the hell out! I definitely don’t want some dead old persons couch or baking dish…what a morbid reminder every time you make your favorite casserole. No thanks!
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