the ferret is in the dining room. I can hear it out there, clattering about. our bungalow is delightful in many ways, not least in the tendency for the ground floor to be chilly and the upstairs (the ferret's normal home) to be a furnace. apparently, it was near death from heat exhaustion... so, the ferret is in the dining room.
this evening, when it was already near dark, the doorbell rang. bella went ballistic, barking and growling at what turned out to be a rather short, older african american man on our front porch. I stepped out and shut the door behind me so "pooch," as lindsay frequently calls her, wouldn't escape.
the man was selling cleaning fluid, stuff that would power away mildew from grout and permanent marker from a towel he carried in his pocket. he used the word "agitate" as normally in a sentence as it can ever be used, and I was impressed. he was a formerly homeless man from Atlanta, he told me, and this was part of a program he was working with, going door to door to work on his communication skills, and provide him with a job in sales to transition to being a productive member of society. he was working on getting points for a certain number of units sold, which were available of course for the modest price of $47.50 each. he pulled out a brand new bottle of the stuff, called "clear miracle citrus." I politely declined, and told him I would ask my roommate if she was interested. she declined less politely. I came back in the house, leaving him somewhat dejectedly repacking his bag on the front porch.
I try not to shut those guys down. if part of what they are doing is truly to work on communication skills, then go right ahead. if they are in fact savvy business people, they will not be able to savv me, and I will keep them longer on my porch, unable to savv others who might be ripe for the savving. plus, I don't like to be rude and slam the door in someone's face. or slam the phone down in someone's ear. I'm not much for slamming in general.
about an hour later, Linds took Bella outside for potty, and she came back in weilding the brand new bottle of clear miracle citrus. apparently in his dejection he forgot to leave our porch the way he found it. apparently I do get to clean my grout and my marker-stained washcloths, after all.
so sorry, homeless solicitor. and thanks.