Once again I am forced to wonder if I am the universe’s favorite plaything or whatnot.
What are the odds that when you are down in the depths of despair*, working too many hours, battling atrial tachycardia, and exhausted yet unable to sleep through the night, that you come home from work and manage to fall asleep on the couch only to be awoken by a meat delivery service trying to hawk their meat subscription service on you?
Apparently in my case, the chances are pretty fucking good.
Last week I was dozing in living room when I was roused by the doorbell ringing and the explosive barking of my dogs expressing their indignation that someone touched their doorbell. I slept-walked to the front window where I could see who was on the porch without them seeing me. I did not recognize the young man and for some reason–I’ll blame my sleep deprived brain–I decided to answer the door. This is seriously very unusual for me because I don’t open the door to strangers when I’m home alone, not because I’m scared that they’ll kill me but because I’m scared that they will bore me.
I opened the door and the dude took a few steps back as he was greeted by two dogs snarling with all of the fury they could muster from the fifteen pound frames.
“Can I help you?” I asked him.
I blinked at him in confusion thinking that I must be have an hallucination from lack of sleep. “You’re… selling meat?”
“Yeah, you like saving money, right?” he asked revving up for his salesman schpiel.
“On meat?” I was still in disbelief. You would think that with the shit that I’ve experienced that a random guy selling meat wouldn’t be that much of a mind fuck and yet it was.
“Yeah, we sell a wide variety of steak, seafood, chicken and pork,” he recited.
And then the evil part of my brain woke up.
“How’s your sausage?” I asked him in a low voice.
“It’s great!” he said overflowing with enthusiasm at my apparent interest. “But we only sell it as part of our pork variety case so there’s a lot of meat in there.”
“I’m sure that I could handle any amount of meat that you were interested in…unloading,” I smiled.
“The case has got pork chops, spare ribs, loin steaks and sweet Italian and sage sausage,” he continued.
“I’ve had Italian sausage, but never sage sausage. I might have to try yours,” I replied. “Though I would prefer to try it before I buy it.”
He scratched his head. “Oh sorry, we don’t have any samples.”
“That’s okay, I’ll just have to take you at your word that your sausage is as amazing as you say.”
He whipped out his clipboard and clicked his pen to begin writing. “So are you interested in any beef or chicken?”
“No, I’m a vegetarian,” I told him.
His face clouded with confusion. “But the… It’s a meat variety case. Like pork chops.”
“I’ll confess that I have no interest in chops, but if I need to buy them to get your sausage then I’ll do it,” I said. “So will you be able to give me that delivery now?”
“I…have to put in the order,” he said still looking uncertain.
The guy was obviously pretty dense and I was running out of innuendos so I crossed my arms and screwed my face into a look of annoyance. “Don’t be a sausage tease. You come to my house hawking your sausage and now you won’t give it to me? Let me be clear, I want your sausage and I want it now!”
His jaw hung open in response and he just stared at me for a moment probably taking in my knotty hair that had escaped from its hair band, the dark circles under my eyes from no sleep and my pale, anemic face.
The guy’s eyes darted around looking for an escape from the nutty nympho and he began backing away. “Sss… sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he said then turned on his heel and bolted for the safety of his truck.
I gave a very theatrical shrug and then closed the door.
And no, I was unable to fall back to sleep so I feel no guilt WHATSOEVER at traumatizing the dude responsible for ruining my precious nap.
*Okay maybe it’s not that bad, but fellow “Anne of Green Gables” will appreciate the reference.