Operation: Fix This House!

Operation: Fix This House!
Our adventures in fixing up a fixer-upper

Confessions of an Antibride

Confessions of an Antibride
Snarky Commentary on Wedding Planning

Pink Dog Cooks

Pink Dog Cooks
Sort of.


And other Crafting Goodness

Getting friendly with the local wildlife

Saturday, February 18, 2012

(Update: This actually happened a few weeks ago but MacGyver didn't want me to broadcast that he was gone.  I am so flattered he thinks I have so many readers...  He's back now.  So all you crazy hooligans looking to take advantage of our mailbox will have to answer to him now.)

I had a non-work related run-in with Tillamook's finest last night at my house.  About which I made the following post on Facebook:

One of my coworkers mentioned that this sort of thing only happens to me, and that these things probably occur in my life so I can blog about them.  I will agree with her on both of these counts.  Plus, I'm having a bit of writer's block about the wedding and need a break from writing about it.  Let me explain.

MacGyver left for California a few weeks ago to work on some property a friend of my Dad's is buying.  That means the dogs and I are batchin' it up in Cowtown for awhile.  Translation: we've been eating sticks and twigs for dinner and the TV has only been turned on twice.  And one of those was for the State of the Union Address.  By the way, did anyone else see that snarky look Michelle Obama gave her husband after he made that awful joke about spilled milk?  That's love right there.  When your husband is the President of the United States of America and you're secure enough in yourself and your marriage that you roll your eyes at him while he's giving the State of the Union Address.  That's love.

Anyway, I have a very overactive imagination when I'm home alone.  So does Mojo, by the way.  He likes to come flying out of a dead sleep at 3:00am howling his holy head off like a SWAT team is busting into our bedroom, when there is nothing there.  I just wish the velociraptors that live in our basement would show themselves once when MacGyver was home so he wouldn't think I'm such a sissy.

When MacGyver is gone, I lock all the little extra, superfluous locks in the house that in reality wouldn't stop my dogs from coming or going if they had a mind to, and I set up little boogie man (read: velociraptor) traps all over the place so I'll know if someone is coming to eat me.  I put the garbage can on the back porch, and leave the dishwasher door down so that it blocks the back door from opening.  I also leave all the outside lights on.  MacGyver is going to have a fit when he reads this.  The way I see it, it's like that feeling of security we get from blankets at night.  I saw this the other day and it made me smile:

Last night about 8:00pm, the doorbell rang.  Now, we don't get many visitors.  We're not social people, you see.  The neighbor is usually the only one who ever comes over, and that's only to talk to MacGyver.  He knows MacGyver is gone, so WHO THE HELL IS RINGING MY DOORBELL AT 8:00 AT NIGHT!!!

I actually figured it had to be the neighbor since I'm not sure anyone else knows where we live.  Except the mail man.  And he comes in the morning.

But no, it was the cops!  The cops showing up on your doorstep at 8:00 at night is never good, no matter which way you look at it.  If they're looking for you, you're screwed.  I was so flustered by the doorbell ringing and seeing that a police officer was standing on my porch, that I didn't think to lock my dogs up, so they were going ballistic around my ankles.  Probably getting ready to eat them some velociraptors for dinner.  Yum.

I opened the door only to realize neither of us could hear anything because of my 14 pound vicious attack dogs, so I closed the door in his face and ran to lock them up.  Not one of my brighter moments, I realize now, but he only looked mildly startled.

He had a very thick looking summons in his hands, along with several other documents.  He asked me if my name happened to be a particular name of someone he was looking for.  When I explained that no, that wasn't me, and furthermore I'd never heard of her, he asked if she lived with me.  (I just told you I'd never heard of her, dude, duh.  Pay attention!).  I said no, and he showed me the documents with her name on them, and our address!  I explained that we'd been at this address since 2006.  He kind of chuckled and said, "well, someone is getting away with something pretty big here!"  Then he was on his way.

I was super creeped out by some crazy lady using our address, and when I told MacGyver about it he was all like, "lock all the doors and turn on all the outside lights."  And I was all like, "way ahead of you buddy...".  Who's the sissy now, hmm?

A few of my friends and I had a good chuckle about it on Facebook for a few hours and I wet to bed and forgot about it.  The velociraptors stayed in the basement too, God bless them.

But then when I got to work this morning another coworker who had seen my post asked me about what happened.  When I finished telling her that I thought it was weird that I don't remember seeing any mail for her come through, she aptly pointed out that this woman could be sifting through our mail during the day before we get to it at night and pulling her mail out!  BECAUSE I DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITH THE VELOCIRAPTORS.

Tonight, when I got home from work and got my mail (none of it for her), I resolved to do something about my little mail prowler.  I wrote this note and taped it to the inside of our mailbox:

I'll keep you posted.


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