NOT Interested

I'm not sure exactly why he rubbed me the wrong way right from the start. Perhaps it was simply because I didn't feel like having to get up out of my chair for a complete stranger. (The walking is fine. The standing up/sitting down still hurts, pinching nerves.)

I caught him out of the corner of my eye, strolling along the front sidewalk, then turning into the driveway. He was reasonably presentable, young, neatly groomed, wearing a generic navy non-uniform uniform. No company logo. No name patch. No company truck visible anywhere either.

The dogs of course went nuts with his first step onto the property. They pretty much ignore passers by when the house is shut up and they don't have dogs with them, as long as they stay on the sidewalk. But he didn't. Plus he was looking hard into the carport on his way up the drive.

I might have been tempted to ignore him except I thought the dog cacophony would wake Steve. Like me, he's still catching up on his lost sleep from days of our too-hot house. In a way, the guy was lucky it wasn't back then, since I wouldn't have answered the door for anybody in what I was (mostly not) wearing just to cope with the heat. But I was decent enough this time.

He started by asking if that was our vehicle in the carport. (Who else's?) Then he pointed up the street and tried to tell me Betty Lou thought we might be interested in what he was selling even though he stressed he wasn't selling anything.

Boy, if that last bit doesn't set you off...! Besides, Betty Lou who? We don't know any and we're pretty sure if one even exists up the street she doesn't know us or what we might be interested in.

I still hadn't unlocked the screen door, but he held his hand out to the door expecting me to shake it.

I left the door locked.

He continued that he noticed from the street the stars in our windshield, offering to fix them for us.

Them? How about one?

"I'm not interested."

I did know they spread, didn't I?

Of course I do. With 2 million miles under my belt and numerous stars and traveling racks, I have some familiarity with the problem. And we do in fact have a crack running part way across the passenger side. It started in January, with a rock impact on the freeway. I know it was January because we had out-of-state company and we were driving out past Tucson to Kartchner. I also know it ran across the windshield immediately because it was the (only) day it was snowing and the defrosters set up a hot/cold temperature variant that provided perfect conditions. Of course, as soon as the snow ended - about 10 road miles worth - the crack stopped spreading. How do I know? I like to run my slightly greasy finger across the ends to mark them in order to measure progress.

I was not, however, feeling like engaging with this guy at the door.

"I'm not interested."

He asked my if I knew it was free to get it fixed? Of course I do, provided one has the insurance rider. I happen to carry it, and some day I will call the insurance company. We'll arrange some reputable company to deal with the crack, not some squirt that some possible Betty Lou may or may not have sent my way, looking completely unequipped to do anything about it.

"I'M NOT INTERESTED."

I quietly shut the door in his face. I still didn't want to wake Steve.