Open the door and let me in! There’s a mean world out there!

Just around dinner time, a well-dressed man came around ringing my doorbell. I thought he was selling Jesus paraphernalia or distributing “free” (nothing’s ever really FREE) Bibles – I mean nothing by this except to say that the only well dressed strangers that ever show up on my doorstep are of this métier. I opened just ONE of my two big front doors and I looked inquisitively but with suspicion at this guy.

He said that he knew me to be a friend, having seen my sign in the laundry room window that faces the street [it says: “it’s up to the WOMEN; elect X & Y” – I do not want to reveal my political bias at the moment; I’m sure you have NO IDEA whom I will vote for on Nov. 2 and I am somewhat baffled as to the message on my sign; someone gave it to me at the Farmers Market and it looked cool, so I put it up – though I am ready to concede that any number of things in this world are up to women, so it can’t be all bad]. I let him in. “Oh thank you!” he tells me, weary of rejections, I’m sure.

“I support all your candidates; what else do you want from me? Money? I donate! I do it all, even post signs in the window at the risk of waking up to splattered raw eggs the next morning” (I live in a politically “mixed” neighborhood; it may be the only one in Madison, but it certainly appears “mixed.”).

He asks: “Will you need absentee ballots for November 2nd?” Megosh! Yes!! Two from this household will have secured them for sure, but the third member, scheduled to be away that day – I’m not so sure… [Do NOT rob this house thinking it to be vacant on November 2nd. I am planning a mega election thing and we will all fight off burly criminals who interfere with the event.][Does that sound convincing and like a proper repellant to criminal-types? I’m not actually sure I am planning a mega event , but MAYBE!]

And so I filled out forms and signed papers and secured an absentee form and it was time to say good bye to the fine young man in the crisp chinos and blue oxford-cloth shirt. [I’m sure he was breaking down stereotypes and making a statement, like maybe: hey, *they* are not the only ones that dress up when duty calls!]

“Thank you!” he tells me.. “Thank you so much for being our friend!”

Now I ask you: would the OTHER party have treated me this well?