Friday I was working upstairs in the office, when I heard a knock on the door. I rushed down the stairs and threw open the door, sure that the person at the door was one of my daughters dropping by for a visit.
Imagine my surprise when I can face to face with a medium height, medium build, clean-cut blonde man standing on my doorstep.
“Oh,” he said with a smile on his face. “I was looking for Allison.”
“Allison?” I asked, still confused by finding the wrong person standing at my door.
“Yes, I guess I have the wrong house.”
“Allison? I’m afraid I don’t know any Allisons around here.”
“Well, sorry to bother you.”
And he left. The funny thing was, he didn’t go knock on any of my neighbors’ houses, like I expected. Instead he hurried to his car and drove off.
Fast forward to last night, Monday night, when my husband and I were sitting in the living room.
“You know,” my husband began, “I read on our community blog that there are guys going around the neighborhood knocking on doors.”
“Knocking on doors?” I asked, still only half listening.
“Yeah. And if no one answers they break in and rob the house.”
“Knocking on doors?” I repeat again, but this time with a gulp. My husband’s words have now caught my full attention.
“Yes. So be careful. It is happening a lot in our neighborhood right now.”
“Knocking on doors?” I ask for a third time, probably because my shocked brain was no longer working correctly.
“Right, knocking on doors. So be sure to answer the door if you are home, so they won’t break in while you are there. But maybe you should not open the door until you know who it is, just in case.”
Okay, I’ll admit to being thoroughly freaked out. My one consolation is that my dog, Pepper, barked at the man the entire time he stood at my door. Hopefully her 20 pounds of bouncing fur coupled with those ferocious high pitched yelps will be enough to keep him from coming back.