By TC1

I remember being so proud of myself when I bought my house. Having been successful enough to do so after recovering from a divorce a few years ago. Although it wasn't classed as a "fixer-upper" of course there were many changes and repairs necessary. One of them was that the original door-chime didn't work. Rather than pay an electrician's exorbitant fees, I bought a kit from the hardware store and replaced the components myself.

Congratulating myself on what a good job I had done, I had no idea just how much aggravation I had let myself in for. Being somewhat of a recluse, and having a deliberately small circle of friends, I seldom have visits from them.

But I soon discovered suburban peace is not all its cracked up to be. That fucking doorbell was apt to go off at any hour of the day, and upon my doorstep I would find any number of assholes wanting to convince me to donate to their charity, convert to their religion, hire them to mow my lawn, trim my...

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