I've had a few comments on my fear of going to get furniture at strangers houses and allowing strangers in my home to purchase finished pieces.................First of all I have an extremely overactive imagination - always have - it made for hell when raising my kids let me tell you - worst case scenarios haunt me - I do not travel without first writing each of my kids a letter with a specific item of jewelry, just in case. ( time consuming when you're only getting groceries, ha ha ) But everytime I think I am just a nutjob - there's another story in the news that convinces me otherwise. So, there you have it.
Ok - so here is a true story for you
Last year I got a call from a contractor letting me know he had a prospective client for me - he told me he was a little strange but completely harmless and a super nice guy - single Dad blah blah blah -
So I called ( he shall remain nameless for obvious reasons ) and set up an appointment - John was out of town so off I went alone. I got to his house and rang his bell - to which he yelled out from where I didn't know, that the door was unlocked and to just come in. Very very gingerly I opened the front door - uncomfortable already ( always go with your intuition ladies, always) and again he yells out to make myself comfortable - the house was open concept so I made my way to the kitchen very carefully eyeing both exits and now realizing that he is in the washroom. All my friends say I am paranoid - and a drama mama ( of which I am most definitely both of that ) so I try hard, I really do, to be normal.
AND OUT HE COMES IN HIS UNDERWEAR. Not boxers - just what was supposed to be fitted underwear ( like seeing a man in a speedo - gross ) Just strutting over to where I am standing ( barely ) with a big smile and an introduction. Like this is a normal thing to do - no awkwardness on his part at all I have to say. In fact he asked me if I'd like a drink ( yes please - a big glass of cyanide so I can kill myself before you do )
Oh, he says, they didn't tell me how pretty you were,
(OK - would you have dressed for the occasion otherwise I am thinking to myself.)
(I bet he says this to every female he stands almost naked in front of )
(No wonder he is a single Dad )
(Where is he hiding the damn knife )
So I did what I always do when I am paralyzed with fear - I took on a tough girl persona which is hard when
your legs are literally giving out from under you.
" Could you please go put some clothes on - you're making me quite uncomfortable "
" Just pretend I have a bathing suit on" he says " what's the big deal "
" It's a big deal for me - if you want I can come back another day or you can just put your damn clothes on"
" No, no, he says, I'll put my jeans on - and commences to put them on in front of me
and we had the consultation with me barely able to speak - and that was that. I wanted to kiss the ground when I stepped outside his front door - Now was he a serial axe killer? Definitely not, he let me go,lol but that was as close to one as I ever want to get. When he asked me for some ideas for the basement I told him that would have to be another time.
And I have not been back.
So now you understand why I always try to send John for furniture - yes I am paranoid - yes I am extremely dramatic, and most definitely yes there are dangerous people out there.
Oh and by the way - he was a skinny little thing - with spindly legs ( even more spindly than my own )
and his underwear actually looked like bloomers for God's Sakes because he couldn't fill them out - I should have taken a picture of him, ha ha, on a completely different note - where do men get their freaking confidence from???????