The weirdest thing happened Friday morning.
A car parked in front of my house. We get packages delivered all the time, so I ignored it, until two men in nice suits knocked on the door.
Few people in Seattle wear suits, and certainly not the ones who deliver packages.
“Hello?” I asked as I opened the door just wide enough to stick my head outside. I instantly regretted doing even that as I was assaulted by a fog of cologne that rolled up my nostrils and made me want to cough. I took a step back.
“Oh,” one of the men said with a confused look on his face, “we’re looking for Spanish speakers. Sorry.”
He looked down at the phone in his hand and checked something on his screen.
“Are you basing that on the fact that I’m blonde?” I asked. I really did want to know. It was my understanding that it wasn’t possible to look at a person and instantly now what language they spoke. Or didn’t speak.
The man hesitated for a moment.
“You spoke English,” he finally answered. “Do you speak Spanish?”
“Not really,” I admitted. It would have been better if I could have responded in Spanish, but my Spanish is a bit rusty. I’d probably sound like a four-year-old groggy from a nap.
“Okay, thanks,” he said.
Without another word the two men slid their cell phones into their pockets and walked down my driveway to the street. When they got to their car I watched as they loaded their briefcases into the trunk, climbed in the front, and drove away.
There are at least nine other houses on my street. They didn’t visit any of them.
So let’s recap. Suits, briefcases, car, Spanish.
No doubt about it. It’s a mystery!
Maybe not the most exciting mystery of all time, but a mystery nonetheless!