by Shirley Bahlmann
Being a victim of an occasional Bahlmann Boy Prank, when my son announced that someone was "here to see me," I asked, "Are you serious?" Sure enough, Clint was at my door, looking to buy one of my books that his neighbor recommended. The funny thing is, the neighbor didn't know my exact address, and neither did Clint. But Clint felt confident he could follow the directions to turn down my street and stop at the house with the red PT Cruiser parked in front.
But there was a problem. My Cruiser was not parked in front of my house. In a secret agent moment, I'd parked it beside an old church one house away from mine. Why? Because my youngest son was waving the water hose around the front yard like a deranged elephant, and I had just washed the car and didn't want it all spotty.
So Clint went to the house across the street from the church, and then to the next house, and the one after that, which happened to be right across the street from me. Those neighbors kindly pointed him in the right direction.
And do you know what? Once he found me, Clint ended up buying two books. Perhaps the hunt makes the trophy more dear. Maybe it's time to unlist my phone number. I could be independantly wealthy in no time!