This morning my hub left for a spear fishing trip with some of his buddies. He got up stinkin’ early and I woke up, too. I usually roll over and go back to sleep, but I was hungry. So, I decided to get up and eat while he was getting his last things together. Then, I couldn’t go back to sleep. I should also add that I stayed up late talking to Britty on the phone. So, when I finally dropped off again at 9:30 or so, I decided I’d just sleep until I woke up.
Sometimes if it rains really hard, our doorbell starts malfunctioning. When our doorbell rings, it sounds like a psycho bird tweeting over and over. When a thunderstorm comes, the bird tweets tweets tweets tweets tweets tweets tweets and tweets until we rip the wires out of the wall. Once the storm has passed, we rewire the doorbell and reinstate the voicebox of the psycho bird.
Sometimes neighborhood kids all over the world will go ring peoples’ doorbells. They’ll ring them over and over when they don’t really want anything but to annoy them. This is very effective at my house where I actually have two doorbells — one to let me know that someone has come to the building (and I need to buzz them in) and one at my door. So, kids can ring and the bird tweets tweets tweets tweets tweets tweets tweets and tweets until I go downstairs and yell at them.
Back in college, when I was a senior, there was a freshman that lived on my hall. She decided I was going to be her friend. Usually, this was cool and we did some stuff together. But, occasionally, she’d knock knock knock knock knock knock knock and knock until I came to the door. Maybe I didn’t answer right away because I was on a long-distance call with my hot boyfriend Ray-Ray. Maybe I didn’t answer because I was in the shower. Maybe I didn’t answer because I was sleeping. Anyway, I always had a good reason for not answering. And, later, I’d tell her to follow college protocol and leave me a message on my white board instead of sitting outside my door and hollering: “I know you’re in there! I’m just going to wait here until you open up!” It was relational terrorism, I tell you. Sometimes I’d be trapped in my room for days waiting for her to get hungry or have to pee or just give up and go away.
What do these seemingly unrelated anecdotes have in common? Today it was not a storm, nor neighborhood kids, nor my former dorm friend who rang my doorbell incessantly and woke me up. (In this case incessantly = about 10 times.) After they rang the bell, they moved to the next level and called me three times in a row. I didn’t answer — otherwise they’d know I was in there! I knew I had enough food to last me a few days…. I could stay inside comfortably. I wouldn’t make any noise that they could hear and I’d just sit tight waiting for them to go away. They apparently thought that after 3 calls it was enough and silence reigned.
I got up (figuring that noon was late enough to sleep), and ate my second breakfast. Then, I decided to call back whoever it was who had called me. With Bean around, I have the instant excuse for not doing anything. “Why didn’t you answer the phone?” I’m pregnant and I was sleeping. “Why didn’t you come to visit me?” I’m pregnant and I was tired. “Why didn’t you leave the house today?” I’m pregnant and there were some relational terrorists stalking me. See, it works every time. But, when I called the number, no one answered. The mystery deepened.
I spent the rest of my day doing laundry, eating, knitting a bear for Bean, and listening to podcasts. I also got a package (one of my favorite things!) and made myself some kool-aid that was included in said package. Overall, it was turning out to be a day where I got lots of little things done. I had tried to hang out with some friends, but they weren’t there. I was considering another nap. (“Why would you take another nap?” I’m pregnant and I want to.) Then, my cell phone rang. And it was the same number that had called me all morning. Suddenly, some light was going to be shed upon the identity of the doorbell ringers. I answered my phone to hear a voice that confirmed all my suspicions….
It was the village people.
This was about an hour and a half ago. They said they might stop by again. So, I frantically threw all the laundry that was drying in the living room (no dryer, remember) into the guest room. Then, I straightened up the rest of the living room, shut the doors to all the other trashed out rooms in my house (“Why is your house such a mess?” I’m pregnant and my housekeeper had to cancel this week), and gave a cursory cleansing to the bathroom. Then, I washed the dishes, fried up some taquito-like things that were in my freezer, washed some strawberries, and prepared for guests to arrive. I’m still waiting. I have no idea how many people are coming. I have no idea if they’re expecting dinner (it’s 5:30) or just tea. I have no idea how long they’ll stick around. For all I know, they’re actually sitting outside my door waiting for me to come out right now. This is going to be an adventure.
In this culture, especially for people from the more traditional villages, it seems that this type of harrassment is supposed to show value for a friend. We know that we are liked when we are constantly asked why we didn’t come see someone or do something. (Well, at least among the women folks.) So, now that you’ve read this and thought “My goodness! The audacity of these people!” take off your American cultural glasses and re-think the situation with this in mind: To annoy someone is to love someone. Dude. I guess this makes me realize how much my brother has cared for me all these years.
I’ll let you know how it goes.