Okay... So the Saints won the Super Bowl. It's pretty much the best thing that's happened to me in regards to sports in well... just about ever. That and the Reds winning the 'Series in '90. That's not what I'm blogging about tonight, though.
So here I am at 11 at night, sitting on the couch, enjoying the post-Super Bowl glow for the first time in my life, and what comes next?
BANG BANG BANG
I jump a little. I turn and look through the windows at the very top of the front door. I can see the screen door slightly opening and closing. Look... call me a pussy, but any time there's a loud banging on the door at an odd hour, it makes me nervous. I've seen too many episodes of Criminal Minds, maybe, because I'm not too keen on home invasions and whatnot. Anyway, I don't get up right away. I figure if I don't answer, they'll go away.
They do not. BANG BANG BANG
So now, I'm irritated and also vaguely terrified, because while I know SOMEONE is there, I have no idea WHO since I can't see them through the door.
I get up and walk around the couch to the door. I peek out the windows at the top, when what to my wondering eyes should appear, but 3 pre-teen dumb-asses with snow shovels.
My fear assuaged completely, and my ire raised more than anything, I unlock the door and the following exchange unfolds: Them: Can we shovel your driveway for twenty dollars?
Me: Guys, what are you doing? It's eleven o'clock at night.
Them: No it isn't.
Me: Um... yeah it is. You've gotta go.
Them: It's eleven?
Me: Yeah. It's time for you to go.
Them: On the dot?
Me: (Pause) (Pause)... Does it matter?
Me: No. You have to go now. Go on.
Them: (As they walk away) We're just trying to make some money dude. Damn
Me: (Closing Door)
At this point I'm just completely blown away, but the next thing that crosses my mind is that they were making a direct line for my car, and I really start hoping they leave it alone. I still haven't been out there, so it's very possible that my car has been ransacked and the tires have been slashed.
I take some comfort in the knowledge that these 3 are probably too stupid to put two and two together and figure out that the car in the driveway is connected to the dude in the house.
I'm going to end the story there. Sometimes the rant writes itself.