The Bible Belt

Between hospital visits, Jeff and I work off a list Karen’s created at my request. Stop the upstairs toilet from rocking, replace the outside light, install a new downstairs bath faucet, clean out the dryer vent, patch the crumbling plaster on the way to the basement, that sort of thing. Every job, with the exception of buying a new paper towel holder, mushroomed into a This Old House How-Not-To, and we mostly drove back and forth to Home Depot.

For our first home improvement project we tackled the door bell that rang by itself, and now, rather than a continuous buzzing, we’ve been surprised only once by the phantom ringer.

“I’ll get it.”

“Who was it?”

“The door bell.”

I’d call it fixed, which is why I was surprised Monday, after Jeff and Karen slipped off to work, to hear banging on the front door. I opened it and smiling before me was a nineteen year old (I’m guessin’) with short red hair and eyes way too close together.

He said hi and I said hi and even before he peered down at his clipboard, he said, “What’s with the si…?”

I knew where he was going so I cut him off.

“What can I do for you?”

He looked back at his clipboard, ran his finger down his list of names and said, “I see you’re an Insight customer and you have Broadband. We’d like to package it with..”

“I don’t live here.”

“cable TV at a low rate of…”

“See that green truck other there, opposite those signs. That’s mine. I’m from Boston. And, besides, I know the owners and they don’t want watch anything but The News Hour on PBS.”

Red (I’m guessin’) wasn’t phased. He dropped his clipboard to his side and said, “You tell them if they change their minds to call us.” Then he motioned over his left shoulder. “Say, what’s with the signs ?”

“Impeach Bush?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty neat, huh?”

“They’re big, I’ll give you that. You don’t see much of that around here.”

“Where I live you see them everywhere.” I lied.

“In New England?”

“Yep.”

“Not here. This is the Bible Belt.”