Who is it at my door?

To make a long story short...

I was going to tell you how I made pasta two nights ago but one of the ingredients was bad and I had to throw everything out and in the middle of it all an obnoxious sales lady kept knocking on my door. See, my kitchen window is at street level so she knew I was there and wouldn't accept my ignoring her until I finally answered and asked her to leave to her very apparent dismay.

And then I was going to tell you how I made steak-frites last night (that's how we Canadians call steak with french fries). Just as I was about to grill the steaks a few people walked up to the front door, laughing and holding glasses in their hands, and I was ready to direct them to the house with the party they obviously confused me for when the guy behind the door said in reply to my questioning "yes, who are you?" - "It's Jack Layton."

I looked out the door and indeed, it was him. Smiling.
So the leader of the third largest party in Canada, NDP, comes to my door, canvassing.

I was wearing one of hubby's T-shirts that reaches me nearly to my knees, so I opened the door, invited them in (it was miserably cold out and he looked so cute in his took) and then quickly scrambled behind hubby to change shirts.

The whole time I thinking how great it would have been if instead of "It's Jack Layton," I'd heard "It's Brad Pitt."

Who would you want it to be?

Categories: personal