The knock at the door...

I have been under the weather for the past few days. I have been nauseous and achy and feverish and the whole bit. So last night I was lying on my couch feeling sad for myself because I didn’t have anyone to take care of me. I realized that it kinda sucks to be single and living alone. There is no one to bring you ginger ale and soda crackers. No one to bring you a blankie, or go buy you more medicine. I was just about to crawl into bed to attempt to get some rest when my doorbell rang. At first I was a little scared. Since I have lived there, no one has just stopped by to see me. I think my fear of unexpected doorbells goes back to my childhood….

When I was about 10 years old, my parents decided to leave me at home alone at night for the very first time. I grew up in the thick wooded mountains in an older house with creaky wooden floors. We lived on a windy dirt road, which can get treacherous in the winter. Before my parents left for the night, my step mom wanted to talk to me about something that could possibly happen while they were away. She went on to explain that since we lived on this dangerous road, there was a chance that someone would get in a car accident. And since we lived on one of the sharper curves in the road, they might crash right out front of our house. And if someone were to crash, they would probably come to our house for help. And if they accident was bad, they would probably be pretty banged up. And if this happened, I should not open the door, but bring the phone with me and talk to them through the door and call for help.
WHAT??? I instantly went into a panic. I had visions of this bloody person banging on my door and screaming for help. And since our door has windows in it, there would be no place for me to hide from them. And they would probably go insane from all of their own blood and become a crazed bloody monster who would want to come in and kill me!
(I am an only child, I have kind of a wild imagination.)
Needless to say, it took a while for my parents to calm me down and my father to convince me that this wouldn’t happen. They arrived late to their dinner party, and had to leave early when they called home to check on me and found out that I was hiding under my covers with the phone and butcher knife.

So you can see why last night the first sound of the doorbell sent a shiver of fear down my (fused) spine. But luckily, I am a big girl now and realize that the likely hood of it being a bloody monster is slim. (Well, actually, I don’t have windows in my door, so I was able to sneak to the side window and peek out and see Ryan’s car on the curb.)
So I opened my door to see a fantastic site: Ryan and Bryn and a huge bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup! They are such good friends! I am so lucky to have them! The soup smelled delicious! My belly still wasn’t cooperating, so I wasn’t able to taste it, but I can’t wait to eat it today! And not only are they the most thoughtful and wonderful friends, but they also put up with my silly request…

Thank you so very much for the scrumptious soup

and your lovely willingness to amuse me!