minute, I knocked again. There were no cars in the driveway, but the three-car garage could still allow for lots of people in the house.
In another minute I heard a faint noise. I smiled at the peephole.
“Who is it?” a tentative male voice said at a high pitch.
“Owen McKenna. I just met you at Joe Rorvik’s. Wondered if I could ask you a question.”
I heard the deadbolt turn. The door opened to the length of a door chain. Dwight looked out at me as the alarm warning started beeping. He shut the door. I heard faint beeps as he punched in the code to turn off the alarm. He unhooked the chain, and pulled the door open. He was wearing one long, blue, rubber glove. With his other hand he held a baseball bat. It was the junior size, made for young kids who need an easier bat to swing when playing t-ball. Around Dwight’s neck was a dust mask, the white gauzy portion pulled down below his chin. On his feet were old-fashioned leather slippers.
“Sorry for the glove,” Dwight said. “I was cleaning the sink. I’m sure I look like something out of a bad movie.”
“You must be using strong chemicals,” I said.
“Just regular cleanser,” he said. “But that stuff is bad for you. It can get in your lungs and get absorbed through your skin.”
I nodded. “Is this an okay time, or should I come back?”
Dwight’s pause was probably long compared to how most people would react, but for someone who obviously spent time and energy considering the dangers of cleaning the sink, to be expected. “No, this is okay. Please come in.” He pointed toward a large rubber tray next to the door. “You can put your shoes there. I don’t think any of the slippers to the side are as large as your feet, but they’re open-backed, so they should still work.
Dwight stepped aside. I walked past. I saw him look out the open door, turning to look both ways down the dark street. Then he shut the door behind me, turned the deadbolt and slid the chain into its holder. I stepped into the tray next to a pair of Hush Puppies and began removing my shoes. I’d often been to homes where shoes were discouraged, a fine idea in snow country. But Dwight went a step further. He didn’t want my stockinged feet on his floors any more than my shoes. I found the largest pair of leather slippers and slid my feet into them. My heels hung out the back ends.
Behind the door were four pairs of skis hanging in holders mounted on the wall.
“You are an avid skier,” I said.
Dwight shook his head in a dramatic way.
“Oh no. I bought this house furnished. I didn’t want any of the stuff. But the sellers were getting divorced, and they said the low price was dependent on the buyer taking the house along with its contents. Apparently, they had been fighting about stuff and they both wanted to make their exit and start fresh without anything. But look at what I have had to put up with.” He made a sweeping gesture at the living-dining-kitchen area. “Hard, Scandinavian furniture, sporting equipment, exercise bicycle, wine bar. My God, what would I ever do with all of that. And that door knocker. What were they thinking?” He pointed at the exercise bicycle. “I like to take walks. But not real long. And when the weather is nice. This stuff is so... so excessive. It just makes you sweaty. I believe in moderation.”
“You could have a garage sale,” I said.
“Absolutely. It’s on the top of my list come summer. Once I get this place cleaned out, I can make it cozy and comfy.” Dwight pointed toward the closed door. “Is it okay if I don’t invite your dog in?”
“Of course. I would never expect that.”
“I like dogs in principle,” he said. “But the shedding and the dander, well, I’d have to pretty much wear this mask with my inhaler under it until I’d thoroughly cleaned the house.”
He pointed toward the living room. “Please have a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
I walked into a living room with maple
In another minute I heard a faint noise. I smiled at the peephole.
“Who is it?” a tentative male voice said at a high pitch.
“Owen McKenna. I just met you at Joe Rorvik’s. Wondered if I could ask you a question.”
I heard the deadbolt turn. The door opened to the length of a door chain. Dwight looked out at me as the alarm warning started beeping. He shut the door. I heard faint beeps as he punched in the code to turn off the alarm. He unhooked the chain, and pulled the door open. He was wearing one long, blue, rubber glove. With his other hand he held a baseball bat. It was the junior size, made for young kids who need an easier bat to swing when playing t-ball. Around Dwight’s neck was a dust mask, the white gauzy portion pulled down below his chin. On his feet were old-fashioned leather slippers.
“Sorry for the glove,” Dwight said. “I was cleaning the sink. I’m sure I look like something out of a bad movie.”
“You must be using strong chemicals,” I said.
“Just regular cleanser,” he said. “But that stuff is bad for you. It can get in your lungs and get absorbed through your skin.”
I nodded. “Is this an okay time, or should I come back?”
Dwight’s pause was probably long compared to how most people would react, but for someone who obviously spent time and energy considering the dangers of cleaning the sink, to be expected. “No, this is okay. Please come in.” He pointed toward a large rubber tray next to the door. “You can put your shoes there. I don’t think any of the slippers to the side are as large as your feet, but they’re open-backed, so they should still work.
Dwight stepped aside. I walked past. I saw him look out the open door, turning to look both ways down the dark street. Then he shut the door behind me, turned the deadbolt and slid the chain into its holder. I stepped into the tray next to a pair of Hush Puppies and began removing my shoes. I’d often been to homes where shoes were discouraged, a fine idea in snow country. But Dwight went a step further. He didn’t want my stockinged feet on his floors any more than my shoes. I found the largest pair of leather slippers and slid my feet into them. My heels hung out the back ends.
Behind the door were four pairs of skis hanging in holders mounted on the wall.
“You are an avid skier,” I said.
Dwight shook his head in a dramatic way.
“Oh no. I bought this house furnished. I didn’t want any of the stuff. But the sellers were getting divorced, and they said the low price was dependent on the buyer taking the house along with its contents. Apparently, they had been fighting about stuff and they both wanted to make their exit and start fresh without anything. But look at what I have had to put up with.” He made a sweeping gesture at the living-dining-kitchen area. “Hard, Scandinavian furniture, sporting equipment, exercise bicycle, wine bar. My God, what would I ever do with all of that. And that door knocker. What were they thinking?” He pointed at the exercise bicycle. “I like to take walks. But not real long. And when the weather is nice. This stuff is so... so excessive. It just makes you sweaty. I believe in moderation.”
“You could have a garage sale,” I said.
“Absolutely. It’s on the top of my list come summer. Once I get this place cleaned out, I can make it cozy and comfy.” Dwight pointed toward the closed door. “Is it okay if I don’t invite your dog in?”
“Of course. I would never expect that.”
“I like dogs in principle,” he said. “But the shedding and the dander, well, I’d have to pretty much wear this mask with my inhaler under it until I’d thoroughly cleaned the house.”
He pointed toward the living room. “Please have a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
I walked into a living room with maple
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