Dear Mr. Campaign Solicitor,
Let me give you a piece of advice. If you really want to solicit a vote for your candidate, don’t ring my doorbell at 8:00 at night.
Even though it was DARK, you may have noticed the well worn mommy van in the driveway. And from the often unkempt appearance of the front of our house, and the sidewalk drawings of various misshapen amphibians, you might assume that our house contains small children.
And you would be correct.
Now, if all your pistons were firing, you would have guessed that 8:00 at night is the time that I dream of. It was the end of an excruciatingly long day. I hadn’t seen my last nerve since breakfast. 8:00 is when we put the offspring to bed. A time for goodnight prayers and kisses. And saints be praised, peace and quiet.
Let’s say, hypothetically, that the doorbell rings. Unaccustomed to such a sound at 8:00 at night, the children leap out of bed alarmed. “WHAT’S WRONG?” Fearing the worst, they wonder if the house is ablaze, and the neighbors are attempting to alert us to that fact. Because they inherited my genes.
And as a side note, I, myself, may have peed my pants just a little.
And that is just never a way to attract a vote for your candidate.
I’m just sayin’.
And furthermore, Mr. Campaign Solicitor, don’t argue with my husband about whether or not you are soliciting. You are. And it’s against the bylaws in this zoned neighborhood.
And no, we don’t believe you when you tell us that you got special permission from the police department.
I’ve been sitting on the fence concerning your candidate. You better hope I’m not still hormonal, on this the date of the primaries.
Dear Girl Scout,
Please disregard the “No Soliciting” sign posted on our front door. This in no way applies to you. If you are ringing my doorbell to sell me a box, or 12, of Girl Scout cookies, knock yourself out.
Any time of the day or night.
And please have plenty of Thin Mints stashed in your red wagon.
I need them.