Good Grief!

Stepping out of the shower this morning, I hear the doorbell and have that moment of indecision. I’m not dressed, so why walk down three flights of steps when I’m not expecting visitors? It’s probably just a confused soul looking for one of the other tenants. On the other hand, people don’t ring the bell at 7:30 AM unless they really need to talk to someone. And why be anti-social?

The compromise: get wrapped up in a towel, throw open the living room window, and lean out just far enough to see the sidewalk below. I immediately recognized one of the jackhammer guys who’s been working around the neighborhood for the past few weeks.

JACKHAMMER GUY: “Good morning—is your car parked on P—Street?” (This is Philadelphian for “you have five minutes to get your ass down here before we call the tow truck”).

ME: Nope. I don’t know about the people in the rest of the house, though.

JACKHAMMER GUY: Big, big grin. “Well, ok. Thanks a lot for your help!”

BACKHOE GUY (working the other side of the street): Looks up at my window. Big, big grin.

ME (in my head): These guys seem pleasant at such an early hour.

Turns out the towel wasn’t fastened very tightly and had been slipping down as I leaned out the window.