Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after me.

Here's the thing,

I have become a prisoner in my own home. 

I know. Sounds a little far-fetched. Possibly even overly-dramatic.

 It's true though. 

I am being pursued by a very determined ward missionary lady. The very same one that seems to be overly fond of the dreaded drop-in visit. The one I mention here. Besides one or two random texts from her, I haven't had any contact with her since then. BUT-according to the kids, I have had a few narrow escapes in the last few weeks. It is only by sheer luck that I have missed her follow up drop-in visits. And, since I am NEVER lucky for long, I am sure that on her next visit she will find me home alone, too drunk to remember that I no longer answer the door and forgetting that I'm not wearing pants or something until it is too late. 

Now, lest you think I am just being paranoid, I can offer further proof that I am in danger of having to endure another awkward drop-in. Awkward on my side, that is. I'm sure she will just go home and take a couple of  nice hot showers to wash away the stench of ghetto she picks up from her required visits to our side of the tracks. 

It started with a text I received at 8:30 on Sunday morning. It woke me up of course. Any self-respecting mother with children old enough to feed themselves breakfast doesn't get out of bed until 9 (9:30, 10:00-close enough) on the weekends. Replace lazy for self-respecting in that last sentence and it describes me to a T. 

The transcript:

Lady: morning, thinking of u & how it would be so fab to be w/u at church in our little class after sacrament mtg. it's empty w/o u. if I can pick u up, text.

I waited a little while for my rage at being awakened that early to subside (did I mention I'm not a morning person?) and for church to start and then sent this answer:

Me: Thanks. It's always nice to be thought of. usually the only little room that feels empty w/o me is in a mental institution.

See how nice I was in actually answering and everything?

Keep in mind that she is at church at this point and that I resisted the urge to say that I was going to tell the bishop she was texting in church.

Lady: I do think of u and ur kids a lot. I want to come visit again if ok. when is a good time, 2day possibly? we could talk outside if easier again, maybe take a walk?

Me: Going to be in Lehi with my oldest most of the day.

This was true if you didn't count the 2 hours that I spent accordion folding book paper and

 watching a movie in bed before I needed to leave.

Lady: ok during the week sometime, I let me know and I can drop by.

Me: no response

Lady:oops u let me know

Me: no response

Lady: regarding your first comment, are u stressed, need anything? 

After the15 minute stretch it took to process the fact that she actually thought I was hinting to her that I needed mental help, (which I probably do but wouldn't seriously tell that to a stranger) I replied with this extremely restrained answer if I do say so myself.

Me: No. that was a joke. If u knew me better u would know that I am never serious. Even during a funeral.

Lady: ok, lol

Firstly, we now know that she used lol which means she could be a satanist working to bring things down from the inside. Everybody knows that this is true:

I try to share this with any and all Christians I run across.

Secondly and more importantly, we know that this woman thinks I am some rude loony that doesn't let people into her house, has been and/or needs to be in a mental hospital but would actually just call her during the week and say, "Hey girl! got some free time. Why don't you boogie on over here and we'll have some grown-up girl bonding time! Yay!" or something to that effect. You think she would have learned a little more about me from our other encounter. If that was anything to go by she should be expecting me to ramble about my colonoscopy and hang up without saying goodbye.

I was still only slightly alarmed until I came home the other afternoon and found a flier for the Relief Society progressive dinner stuck to my door with the following written across the top:

Hope you can make it!  Enjoyed texting with you!

It was after this that I realized that she thought I was crazy enough to wander from unknown house to unknown house with perfect strangers in search of my dinner; (if we share genetic material and/or I will swear in front of you, we're golden. Otherwise, all bets are off.) and also that my luck was about to run out.  

Oh Dear.

I have been forced to develop a few strategies to get around this now very real and constant threat from our intrepid Ward Missionary Lady. Until she moves on to another poor sap, this is my life: 

*If I am in the kitchen, a knock at the door will find me hitting the deck like we are under mortar attack. AND since my children don't seem to have enough of the tell-a-lie-but-make-it-quick gene that runs through my family to tell whoever might be there that I have malaria (moved to Borneo, become a man and left to tour Canada with a barbershop quartet, whatever), I have started to dig a hole into the wall behind the stove in case I become trapped in the kitchen and need a quick escape.

*The few times I have been forced by necessity to venture out, I have taken to first watching through the blinds for any movement that might indicate an ambush before I can dash to the safety of the car. I also wave an old broom handle over my head in a circle as I dash. Just in case the ambush is better executed than I thought.

*When I get back, I duck down and make three passes past the place before I park. Having the porch comes in handy at this point. The bruised shins and black eyes from awkwardly vaulting the porch railing and crawling to the door are worth it.

*If I hear a knock and happen to be in my bedroom or bathroom; I have been known to lie down next to the toilet in the hopes that it will be thought that I hit my head on the toilet and therefore have good reason to avoid whomever is at the door. I keep a bottle of ketchup under the bathroom sink to slather on my head for just such an occasion.

So, keep all this in mind if you decide to drop-by.  

On second thought, maybe you'd better call first.