Sunday, July 9, 2017

Now The Weirdos Come A-Callin'

Sweet Gummi Mary! A woman is not safe in her own Mansion these days. Not even hidden away ten-feet-under, in her dark basement lair, with her somewhat-protective hillbilly husband floating around out back in Poolio, and three alarm-sounding fleabags patrolling the property.

Here I was, minding my own business, happily pecking away at New Delly, carefree as a retired teacher on a late Sunday afternoon in mid-July...when I heard a chime. It was the Big Ben chime. Ding DING Ding, Dong Dong DONG Dong. (I hope those dongs don't attract any PR0N searchers!)

Since Farmer H had just gotten back from a surprise Sunday afternoon auction, I didn't think anything of those chimes. I figured he'd bought some new clock, and had wound it and set it to see if it worked. He's always piling his bargains on the kitchen table. And the noise was coming from upstairs.

I kept happily pecking away. Life is good. I had a good portion of my 44 oz Diet Coke at my right elbow, cool air pumping out of the vents, supper coming up which I did not have to make, since Farmer H was having BBQ leftovers, and I was making a roast beef sandwich. Happily, happily pecking, not a care in the world, Big Brother on TV tonight, my life stretched out ahead of me in a non-scheduled kind of way.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!!!!!

Well. THAT startled me. I guess somebody was at the door. That ding-donging could have been the doorbell. It's just that it hasn't worked in so long that I am unfamiliar with the tone. And of course Farmer H was out back floating, carefree as a 40-percent-retired manager of facility maintenance, another day off looming ahead, his only responsibility to slap a hamburger on a bun and open the microwave.

I started upstairs. There are 13 of them, you know. And my knees are not to be rushed. I got to the door and stepped out onto the 150-degree front porch that was baking in the late afternoon sun, and saw a car parked behind Farmer H's Toronado. Huh. I guess THAT'S why the dogs were going crazy.

The man in the driver's seat waved at me and got out. I told him Farmer H was in the pool out back, but he kept talking to ME.

It was the husband of the back-creek neighbor, Bev, who is going to court over Crazy Dude tomorrow. I'm not saying they aren't nice people, but they're a little different.

"I need to use your internet. If that's all right."

"Uh...my internet?"

"Yeah. I have some software that I never registered, and I need it for a file to take to court tomorrow. I just need to connect to your internet to do it."

"Uh...you have everything you need?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Will it...uh...hurt my computer?"

"NO! It's just software."

"Well...I have a laptop up here in the living room..."

"Good. Thank you ! I'll get my laptop out of the car."

Huh. He didn't mention that he had his laptop. I don't know what I thought. I thought he was wanting to use MY laptop or desktop. I don't understand this junk. He mentioned a key code, and I remember the #1 Son using that to get us our Word or Office or something. I went inside. Have I mentioned that I do NOT like people in my house?

The guy came in and sat down where I'd cleared a place for him at the coffee table where #1 had ripped the varnish off within a week of us getting it, by sticking a mouse pad on top and saying it would just peel off. It did. Along with the varnish. Anyhoo...BevMan started prattling on again about stuff I didn't know. I wasn't pickin' up what he was layin' down. Supposedly, he is ex-military, and works for the government, according to Farmer H. He might as well have been speaking in some kind of code.

"Is your system password protected? I didn't think of that."

"Uh...I don't know? Like...my laptop is. I have to sign in when I turn it on. But I just did that while you were getting your stuff."

"No. The network."

"I don't know. It's always there when I start up my computer. I think we have two or three. I see it when my internet goes down and I'm trying to connect and find the problem. Something like Home Group and a couple with other names."

"No. This would be your internet."

"We have DISH Network. That's our internet. But I don't know if we have a password. Once I asked my son about that when he set it up. I said, 'So someone could just drive by and use it? Like, our neighbors might stream movies on it or something?' Because I'd heard horror stories about that. And I didn't want an overage. He said it was possible, but not likely. That we would see them sitting out front on the road."

"Oh, they'd have to be pretty close. Right up here on your porch."

"Well, then I don't think we have a password."

"I'll know as soon as mine comes on. I'm almost out of power. I put it on the lowest setting. I hope it works long enough to get this loaded."

"I don't know what kind of laptop you have. But I have a charger over there. In all those wires."

"No. This should be fine. As soon as I get it, I'm going to turn it off, and then go home and start it up again."

Hmpf. BevMan got it done, supposedly, while I was in the kitchen slicing an onion. I don't want to be a bad neighbor. Farmer H DID get those restraining order papers served to Crazy Dude for Bev. But I find this kind of behavior a bit odd.

Would YOU drive to somebody's house, somebody you've only met once, and ask to use their internet? Would YOU move to a new house, and not have internet after three or four months? Would YOU put off getting your court case ready until 15 hours before it was scheduled? Would YOU not even have your laptop charged when you went to ask somebody to come into their house and use their internet?

I find this situation a bit creepy. Maybe he was scoping out our house. Maybe he was planting something on my internet. What if he's a SPY to rival Farmer H's spy-ness in his odd activities?

Maybe I have an overactive imagination. Too bad I'm not creative enough to use it as a story plot.

5 comments:

Sioux Roslawski said...

HM--I took a train from St. Louis to Chicago. One of the bathrooms (my seat was right by the two bathrooms in our car) was "occupied" for more than an hour. I was SURE that someone was dead in that bathroom, or at least unconscious.

I got one of the train guys to check it. It turns out it was a malfunctioning door lock, and just got accidentally locked when someone left.

Yes, we writer have an overactive imagination...

fishducky said...

I think you'll be fine!!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Only the best for YOU, Madam! I see you were given a prime seating assignment. I am eagerly awaiting your new non-thriller, "Merde-er on the Chicago Express."

You are such a do-gooder. Thanks to you, twice as many people were able to relieve themselves just inches away from your seat.

***
fishducky,
I am so far!

Kathy's Klothesline said...

Like you, I don't care for surprise visits. I don't invite people into my personal space very often. Could be because I don't have time to really clean this time of year. And yes I do find it a bit odd that someone who is adept at computer speak to not have internet! Procrastinating until the last minute, not so much. I live with the master of procrastination.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
I think it was a bit presumptuous of him to think I would gladly invite him into my Mansion.