So Monday James is at work and I am loving on Hudson, doing laundry, cleaning - you know, all the normal stuff.
Around 2:15 I hear someone on the screened-in front porch. Our sidelights are stainglass so you can see out/in but it's all blurry so I can tell it's a man in a blue shirt. "Just the mailman running late," I think. Man in blue shirt leaves front porch and I return to playing with Hudson the floor.
Then, man in blue shirt returns. "Strange ... " I think to myself. Man in blue shirt walks around on front porch making me more than slightly uncomfortable. Then man in blue shirt sits down in one of the rocking chairs.
That was enough to bring out my inner-Mama Bear. So I took Hudson to his room and placed him in his crib, which thankfully he was happy to be there. Then I proceed to put on a hoodie (yay for fall) and my shoes to head outside and find out just who this man in a blue shirt is and why he's on my porch.
My plan? What plan? In the whole fight or flight reflex, I got all fight and little flight. So here I am in all my 105 pound glory ready to pounce on and scare away whoever this is on my porch. Just as I am preparing to open the door, I realize man in blue shirt is now fiddling with the screen door on the other side. Prepare to attack ... Until I realize man in blue shirt is James.
Hahahah! James was teaching at the local TAPP school for teenage mothers and they dismiss school at 1:45 so he was earlier than I expected and was just enjoying the beautiful fall day by sitting for a few minutes on the porch looking at our mail. He got quite a kick out of my telling him this story and about how I was preparing to kick his heiny.
Disclaimer: I am totally pro-guns. Remember, I am from the country, y'all! This however is a good example as to why it's probably a good thing that we're too poor to buy a gun.