My small house stands out with its welcoming blue color scheme, tasteful exterior ornaments, and a large tree that invites neighbors to say hello as I relax on the porch swing. My humble abode has curb appeal in abundance, but solicitors and even Jehovah’s Witnesses rarely darken my door, and it has been over a decade since kids came trick or treating.
Once upon a time, calling someone was normal and dropping by unannounced was fine. In the digital age people communicate via texting and emojis, and we panic if someone has the audacity to call us, or God forbid, knock on our door announced.
I get annoyed when my phone rings and wonder who skipped texting and called, which I think should be reserved for emergencies. Unfortunately, my sister, whose first impulse is always to call, does not read my essays.
When someone knocks on my door, especially if it is after the sun goes down, I go into panic mode. Is it a serial killer, a home invader, an ICE agent? I recently bought a Ring doorbell, now I can at least see who has invaded my comfort zone, and if the figure appears even slightly menacing, I will silently pray that he will walk away.
I appreciate that I was not interrupted by any phone calls while composing this essay, or it would have had an even more paranoid vibe.
