Ding-Dong Ditch

Photo by Elti Meshau on Unsplash

Last night, while I was fixing dinner in the kitchen someone banged loudly on our front door. Anne was watching TV on the couch and saw the responsible individual running away, first down our walk and then up the street. It looked like a kid to her, who was wearing a hoodie. I stopped cooking and opened the front door. There was no flaming sack of stuff on our front porch or really anything out of the normal. I also checked the RAV4 and the backyard, but nothing seemed out of the normal. It is a mystery, or is it? Twenty years ago, our boys were in high school. It was early in the morning, and we were preparing for a family car trip. I went out to load the car and noticed that our next-door neighbor’s yard had been TP-ed. At that time, our neighbor was a single middle-aged woman. It seemed strange, but we hit the road anyway. As it turned out, the culprits were a pair of girls who Dan liked. Nowadays, our other side next-door neighbor’s place again houses two high schoolers. Mmmm… What are the chances that a pair of seniors would be singled out for some childish prank versus the chance that some dumb kid hit the wrong house? Maybe, I should put a sign up on the front door that says, “Wrong Door,” add an arrow and the message, “Go Next Door.” It beats complaining about it on Neat-Door Neighbor.

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