A clipboard?

What is that even for?

Do people even make those anymore?

But there she is, clipboard in hand, heels in the dirt, walking around the house and seeming to make notes to herself.

Okaaaaaaay.

I suppose I should probably go down there.

Should being the operative word.

I have a good excuse, though. I think you will agree.

I murdered someone last night.

Or, at least, I think I did.

So . . . it’s not exactly the best timing. I mean, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say this is not the ideal time for an interaction with someone who would be painful for me to interact with in the first place.

No, no. The proper thing to do is to just hide in the attic.

I mean, what harm could she do? She’s wearing coral lipstick.

If you think I am going to follow her to the back of the house, you are correct. I am going to spy on her every move because we have established that this is one of my favorite hobbies.

Man, she is really in shape. I can even see her calf muscles from up here. That is some serious keto and Pilates right there. Her walk is brilliant, it’s so confident.

Funny thing, about that walk, she now seems to be taking it inside the house.

Now, that’s confidence.

I know, I know. I should do something. I should say something.

But, again, I have social anxiety. And this lady, welp, she is like the poster child for why I have social anxiety.

I bet if I looked in the mirror, I would scream.

No no no. I simply cannot.

One thing I can do, though, is peek out over the banister and see what she’s up to.

But maybe I should protect. I should protect the hearth and home of the professor!

She enters and stands in the entryway and promptly sneezes. She gathers herself and begins writing notes.

Okay, this is getting weird. I sort of have to do something . . . which is my least favorite sentence.

But, okay, here goes.

“Um, hellooooo, can I help you?”

I don’t descend the stairs because, honestly, I really don’t want her to see me. I don’t want anyone to see me in my current state, but especially not her.

She replies in a sneeze.

Hmm. A summer cold. Unusual but not unheard of.

“Hello? Is there something I can help you with . . . ?”

ACHOO!

I’m about to raise my voice, for the last time, but as providence would have it . . . she sneezes again. And again. And again. And hallelujah! She sneezes her way right out the front door, back into her yellow SUV, down the driveway, and all the way down the road. Achoo! Achoo! ACHOO!

I love it.

I love it!

See, this is such a weird world.

Sometimes you just have to stick around to see what strange thing is going to happen.