I hear you knocking, but you can't come in

I was home alone all day yesterday because it was election day in Gilbert and my mother works the polls. I don't have a problem being alone usually. But yesterday something odd happened that made me glad I've got my daddy's old Ruger under the bed.

I voted in the afternoon and went to IKEA to check out some furniture in person that I'd looked at on-line. I didn't stay too long because I was hungry, and because I detest rush-hour traffic. I got myself a cinnamon bun on the way out and battled the traffic home. I don't know where so many people were going before 5 o'clock on a Tuesday, but there you are.

I got home a few minutes before 5:00, but I DVR Jeopardy! every day so I can watch it at my leisure. I'd settled on the couch with some cold water and it was a few questions into single Jeopardy when the doorbell rang. I hit pause.

I never know who's going to be on the other side of the door - solicitors, Jehovah's Witnesses, kids raising funds, etc - so I'm careful to sneak up on the door quietly so that if I don't want to answer the door, the person on the other side won't have heard me galumphing up to the door. I checked the peephole. I didn't see anyone at first so I thought that the UPS man had probably left a package and gone back to his truck. I was reaching up to undo the latch at the top of the door when I felt a little funny. Neither my mother or I had anything coming in the mail. I looked out the peephole again and there was a strange-looking, dirt-covered older man outside. He looked a little like William H Macy in the face, only this man was sunbaked like the homeless around here usually are. He had stringy grayish hair to his shoulders and a scraggly gray beard. I've seen a lot of "Law & Order" so I made note of his height and build, his gray pocket t-shirt and the tattoo on his left arm.

He seemed agitated. He was muttering under his breath and sort of swaying nervously. I was frozen at the peephole. He lunged forward suddenly and banged loudly, almost angrily on the door. I didn't breathe. I stood there a moment. So did the man. Then he shouted something unintelligible at the door and left.

I didn't see which way he went. I was too afraid to check the side window to see in case he could see me moving through the curtains.

The first thing I did was run upstairs and grab the Ruger. I keep it in the plastic case it came in. I took the lock off but kept it in the case and set it on the table. I sat down in front of the paused TV for a few moments, then called my mother. She suggested I call the police, which I did. I told them what had happened, and described the man in detail. The dispatcher said a car was on its way.

A while later (I kept looking out the peephole), a police car stopped across the street. I could only see the back of it so I don't know if the officers got out or anything. They never came to my door to talk to me so I have no idea what happened.

When my mother got home later that night, I told her all about it again. She asked if I'd ever seen our neighbor's ex-husband (who sometimes hangs around), a man my father once described as Joe Dirt. I haven't ever seen him so I don't know what he looks like. My mother wondered if maybe that's who the stranger was.

And now I wonder, too, because a few minutes ago the doorbell rang. "Wouldn't it be funny," I thought to myself, "if it was the same guy as yesterday evening?"

And it was. His hair was in a ponytail today and his t-shirt was dark blue. Again, I froze at the peephole. The man said something I couldn't make out as he stood there, again swaying. Then he exhaled sharply and said something like, "Must be snoozing" and turned and walked away.

So I'm left to wonder. Was it Joe Dirt from next door? What on earth does he want? My mother has talked to our neighbor (Jana) and said that the woman has our phone number if she needs anything, so there's no reason to open the door.

I wonder if it was Joe Dirt. If it was I feel a little foolish for calling the police. But I'm a single woman, at home alone, and I was frightened. A strange man shouted at my door. Why shouldn't I have called the police?

I wonder about something else, though. He came by two days in a row. Will he come by tomorrow as well? The next day? What on earth does this man want? Whatever it is, he's not getting it, unless it's a bar of soap. If he comes by tomorrow, maybe I'll answer the door. But I'm going it with my Ruger on the table, and I'm going to ask him politely to leave me alone. Even if it is just Joe Dirt, I'm a little too freaked out to just leave the house right now. If I do, he'll know someone was home.

Honestly, I felt better yesterday when I thought it was just a drifter or someone like that, and I knew the police had an eye out. The thought that this creepy man is next door isn't a very reassuring one.