Member-only story
LIFE || HUMOR || CHANGE ||
Who’s That Knocking at The Door?
A tale of unexpected, expected visitors
The Great Furniture Fiasco
At precisely 8 a.m. on a Saturday, Kate was enjoying one of mankind’s finest pleasures: being asleep when there was absolutely no reason to be awake.
Darling Husband (DH) lay beside her, snoring gently like a man who had never, in his entire married life, been responsible for remembering a collection time, a birthday card, or where he had put his glasses.
The house was peaceful, the curtains drawn and the duvet warm. Life was good.
Then came the banging.
Not a polite tap-tap, such as one might expect from a neighbour delivering a misdirected parcel, but a thunderous assault on the front door that suggested either the police had arrived, or someone had discovered a body in the garden.
Kate stirred; DH didn’t move a muscle. Typical. The banging continued.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Kate muttered, pulling the duvet over her head. “Who on earth is that at this hour?” DH opened one eye. “Probably the postman.”
“The postman doesn’t usually try to demolish the front door.”
