Life is Rude
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I never open my door when someone knocks. Never. If you can’t text me and let me know you’re coming, you don’t really need to see me. Plus, no one ever, ever, needs to see me in full repose. It’s not pretty to say the least.

And while I truly do loathe surprise visits, the reason I don’t answer the door is because it’s usually not a friend on the other side. It’s someone who wants something from me. I have to talk to enough people I don’t really want to talk to when I’m at work. I don’t want to do it when I’m at home. To open the door means to be confronted by solicitors, religious acolytes, and general do-gooders—just the worst possible things to find on your doorstep in the middle of an otherwise pleasant afternoon, when yo...

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