This mornin, home alone, with a chance to dress. No make-up, fingernails, or wig but I got dressed in a nice dress, sweater, pantyhose, and pumps. I had a load of laundry going. The dishes had been washed. I was mopping the kitchen floor. These are the days for which I live. Some music on, a bit of a twirl in my step. A perfect June Cleaver morning.
Then I heard a solid pounding on the glass door. I froze, in place. My front door was open with only the storm door closed. I slowly turned toward the door. At the door, was a deputy sheriff. My mouth is wide open and we have made eye contact. Running for the bedroom is not a good idea. I do not want to get shot. I put the mop in the bucket and slowly walked to the door. No doubt my face is red.
I opened the door and he asked me if I was John Smith (obviously made up name to protect the innocent). He’s holding an arrest warrant, in his hand. Failure to appear in court on a traffic violation. I point to the address on the warrant, then to the 12” high letters right next to my door. The house he wants is across the street. He thanked me and walked back to his car.
No one was home across the street and he left. I feel like Cinderella did right after the clock tolled midnight. As I sit, sipping coffee, typing this message, still dressed, all those thoughts go through my head. Just what is he going to be telling everyone back at the department. Does he know anyone that I know. Of course, I wonder why the heck I left that door open.
Anyone ever sort of get caught like that? My first urge, was to move. Okay, that’s not practical. Then I thought about purging everything. Most likely, I’ll never see him again. He’ll never see me, again. I didn’t make up any excuse, like I was going to a costume party, or anything. In our brief conversation, neither of us addressed the elephant in the room.