Oh, and today's pointless photo? A dusty trail, of course.
Now then. Post topic. Someone knocked at my door last night just as I was going to bed. Not too weird, considering the building that I live in... although, come to think of it maybe a bit weird since 'tis not the season of college students a bit drunk (literally) with the thrill of being away from mommy and daddy for the first time. Also, this was a fairly gently rapping as opposed to an over-the-top bashing, all things considered. That part's unusual.
When I didn't answer, the person knocked again. Not terribly unusual.
Shortly after that, my intercom rang. Pretty unusual.
And why the unusual? Well, it means that whoever knocked at my door apparently didn't have the wrong apartment and was specifically looking for me (or at least the person that they thought was in the apartment which, considering that the intercom buttons have our last names on them, would probably have been me).
I know some of my two fans still aren't getting why the above might be unusual, so I suppose I'd better tell you a few things that you need to know if you expect me to answer my door when you pay me a surprise visit (especially at a slightly late hour). First, I don't like surprise visits. Second, you should probably know my phone number. Third, you should at the very least know my name.
You see, I don't as a rule answer my door or my intercom unless I'm specifically expecting someone. Part of that is that fifty percent of the time (ok, more like ninety percent) I'm in my pyjamas when I'm alone in my apartment, and I'm not likely to be too thrilled about putting on actual clothing just to answer the door. More importantly, though, there have been some fairly odd things happen in my neighbourhood over the years (hey, for a while the apartment right below mine became an impromptu crack den. Good times, good times), so if I'm not figuring on anyone being at my door I ignore all signs that there actually is someone at my door. It's much easier that way.
So, say you really did want to pay me a surprise visit. How do you get my attention? Well, let's go back a couple of paragraphs and look at that surprise visit list. First, don't pay me a surprise visit. Let me know that you're coming and I will, in fact, open the door. No, really. I will. I don't mind visits... just the surprise ones. That brings us to number two. If you've ignored number one and have shown up at the apartment building unannounced, don't bother with the intercom. I ignore it. Call me on the phone. Tell me who's there and chances are that I'll then tell you to use the intercom so I can buzz you in. An extra step, yes, but at least I have a better idea of who I'm letting in that way. The intercom speaker is pretty lousy at the best of times. And speaking of knowing who's there, if you've shown up at my apartment building and someone else has let you in (which, sadly, happens a lot. Apparently not all tenants heard about the crack den thing), don't just come knocking on my door and expect me to open it. Use my name, for crying out loud. Knock, say "hey Dee (or, you know, insert actual full name here), are you home?", and I'll know that someone who knows me is there.
None of this is unreasonable, is it?
I don't think so.
And even if it is, I'm not about to change my habits now.
And to last night's eleven o'clock door knocker: I'd say I'm sorry, but if you know me then you should have known better. And if you don't know me, then why in Whomever's name were you knocking at a random someone's door at that stupid hour?
Sometimes I juuust don't get it...
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