Picture this: Everything under control in the house. My girls and two daycare children are at the table eating lunch. I think, yay, I can actually go to the bathroom now. Wrong!
I pass through the hallway and notice a ladder from my front porch to my roof. Ah, the solar guy is here. I take a detour and go outside, climb my magnolia tree to the roof and greet him. He did use the doorbell, he said, but, of course, I never heard it. He's doing fine taking sunlight/shade readings and predictions so I prepare to climb down when I see two men approaching my front door. Turns out they are Kirby vacuum salesmen, wanting $20 to shampoo one room for me. I try my best to convince them that I don't need their services, after all I have two Kirby vacuums with carpet shampooing attachments and I already know they work great, but these guys persist. Suddenly, one of my daughters pops her head out the door and announces that one of the daycare kids has wet her pants and made a huge puddle under the lunch table. Mind you, I'm still up on the roof! Before I can climb down, another daughter pops out to tell me that the other daycare child's mom has arrived to pick her up. Did they let her in? No. Has she rung the doorbell? Yes. How many times? Maybe four or 5, they tell me.
I swing down from the roof via my tree like a tropical monkey, ignoring the outstretched hands and worried looks of the vacuum guys, go inside and handle things. No sweat. This is, after all, my normal life.