To the Guy Who Knocked on my Door at 4:45
If you were to stop by my house (unexpectedly) anywhere between 7am-3pm you would think I have things mildly under control. You may hear a crying baby, there may be a splatter of matchbox cars on the living room floor and you'll definitely hear Kidzbop playing throughout the house, but you won't see a (terribly) frazzled mom, sad children or filth.
But if you were to stop by my house (unexpectedly) between 4-6pm you would likely see huge messes, dirty plates, a hungry, screaming baby and two toddlers who have forgotten their manners. Many people have told me it's the witching hour. Yes, yes, I see it now. It's the hour I suddenly have to prep a meal that represents all the food groups, while also simultaneously breastfeeding and dealing with toddlers who are beginning to unravel.
So please, maybe don't come over - or, rather if you do, please come at 7 am. I'm as fresh as a daisy then.
So to the poor guy who mistakenly knocked on my door at 4:45 and wanted to give me his perfectly rehearsed script on home remodeling, I am truly sorry. I am sorry I had to hold back my anxious pitbull from jumping on you. I am sorry baby Holly drowned out your voice with her screams. I am sorry that my children didn't listen to me when I asked them to stay inside and instead went outside and stared awkwardly at you. I am sorry I looked a mess, when in reality (if you had come at the appropriate time) my make-up would've been fresher and my hair would've been less...scary. I am sorry I answered all of your questions (so.many.questions) in an exhausted, irritated tone.
I am sorry I didn't buy what you were selling.
I am sorry you got the worst first impression of me.
I am sorry that you walked away, fearful that when you were older (because you were young and hot) your life may look like mine.
Because like I said, if you came a couple hours earlier you may have thought differently. I still wouldn't have bought new windows, but you wouldn't have walked back to your car with PTSD.
But if you were to stop by my house (unexpectedly) between 4-6pm you would likely see huge messes, dirty plates, a hungry, screaming baby and two toddlers who have forgotten their manners. Many people have told me it's the witching hour. Yes, yes, I see it now. It's the hour I suddenly have to prep a meal that represents all the food groups, while also simultaneously breastfeeding and dealing with toddlers who are beginning to unravel.So please, maybe don't come over - or, rather if you do, please come at 7 am. I'm as fresh as a daisy then.
So to the poor guy who mistakenly knocked on my door at 4:45 and wanted to give me his perfectly rehearsed script on home remodeling, I am truly sorry. I am sorry I had to hold back my anxious pitbull from jumping on you. I am sorry baby Holly drowned out your voice with her screams. I am sorry that my children didn't listen to me when I asked them to stay inside and instead went outside and stared awkwardly at you. I am sorry I looked a mess, when in reality (if you had come at the appropriate time) my make-up would've been fresher and my hair would've been less...scary. I am sorry I answered all of your questions (so.many.questions) in an exhausted, irritated tone.I am sorry I didn't buy what you were selling.
I am sorry you got the worst first impression of me.
I am sorry that you walked away, fearful that when you were older (because you were young and hot) your life may look like mine.
Because like I said, if you came a couple hours earlier you may have thought differently. I still wouldn't have bought new windows, but you wouldn't have walked back to your car with PTSD.
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