So, a downside to the fancy glass front door that Andy installed recently became apparent last night. I was strolling down the stairs that face the front door in my skin tight black maternity leggings, with cozy, oversized zebra-patterned maternity shirt (an ensemble not fit for public view) when I stopped dead in my tracks, screamed and retreated to the upstairs. There was what appeared to be a man standing outside my front door who hadn’t apparently noticed the “no soliciting†sign and who also hadn’t announced his presence through a door bell ring or a knock. The boys were naturally running around in their underpants and I had to tell them to get some pants on and get away from the front door. In spite of my scream, the man-like figure kept standing there, silent, not knocking or ringing. My boys were excitedly reporting back that the man was actually a boy scout with some wreaths. I tried to talk Andy into dealing with it. After all, I wasn’t dressed for answering the door, had thoroughly embarrassed myself and live by the motto that nothing good comes from answering the door. Andy was firmly standing behind his “no soliciting†sign and refused to answer. Finally, Jude cracked open the window and told the boy scout that his parents were too scared to answer the door. At that point, I’d say I was too embarrassed. The boy scout loaded up some marketing materials in our mail box and finally left. Now I can only hope that I don’t know that kid or his parents.