"Oh...Hi...Umm..I'm living downstairs here..."

Have I mentioned what a blessing my friendship with the Smart family has been? They have provided me with a place to stay, with storage for my belongings so I don't have to pay for a storage unit, with companionship, friendship, lots of laughs and even car repair. Andrew has helped me with my car two or three times since I've lived here--in fact just the other week he put one of his car's battery in mine to help me get home and then two days later had replaced my faulty alternator before I was even up in the morning, and this afternoon he fixed my long-broken window! (Another thing that I've come to enjoy about having a man in the house is that he'll carry heavy suticases and boxes up the stairs for me. I could get used to that.) The boys are constantly encouraging me, and hugging me and even writing things at school that include me in the family. Amber is like another sister to me, and we have stayed up [too] late many nights hanging out talking about our lives and our faith and our future plans and hopes. As I grow and my closest friends from high school and college move away or travel the world, I'm so glad to add to their ranks a friend who is settled with her familiy HERE. So...yeah, I love the Smarts. Living with them has been fun and healing (going through the last 6 months living in an apartment alone would have been much harder for me emotionally), and I am so thankful for this time!

But sometimes living with a family can bring up strange situations. So...that brings me to today's humorous and slightly uncomfortable story.

Last night all the Smarts spent the night in Seaside, and then Andrew (who leads worship on Sundays at his church) came home today while Amber and the boys stayed for a few more days.

A little while ago, while Andrew was out in the yard, he was chatting with his next-door neighbors and mentioned that Amber and the boys were out of town. His kind-hearted neighbors invited him over for dinner so he didn't have to eat alone, seeing as how his family was gone. After he had finished working outside, Andrew came in to quickly shower and change before heading next door.

Meanwhile, I'm in my room in the basement wearing "laundry day clothes" (mis-matching shirt and ugly sweats), doing my laundry and watching the Olympics, completely oblivious to the the above-ground world. Boom boom, boom, boom, boom. I hear someone firmly pounding on the front door through the clamorous dialogue of the ridiculous sportscasters who were commentating on the event of the moment. I figured the door wasn't for me and waited for Andrew to answer it. But he didn't. Huh....well, maybe he went somewhere, I thought to myself. So, as a kind basement-tenant, I went to answer the door for him.

I open the door and the man standing there gives me an odd look. "Hi," he says slowly, "is Andrew there?"

"I think he is," I reply, then turn to call up the stairs "Andrew! ANDREW! Are you here?"

I hear Andrew's voice muffled through a closed door asking "what?"

"SOMEONE'S AT THE DOOR FOR YOU," I yell back. Then turning to the man on the porch I asked, "Are you one of the neighbors?"

"Yeah. We live right next door," he answers, "Andrew was going to come over to our house for dinner."

"Oh.....Hi," I reply in a tone I'm trying to keep warm despite the neighbor's stare.. We stand there waiting for Andrew to come to the door and I'm acutely aware of the fact that this man is looking at me a bit strangely. I shouldn't have answered the door, I thought, this is weird. And then...I get it. Andrew had told his neighbors that his wife and kids were out of town, and they had invited him over so he wouldn't have to be alone. Then they come over and some strange woman opens the door. I quickly try to explain who I am: " Umm...I'm living downstairs here until I can get a house." It is clear to me now that Andrew isn't going to be able to come to the door for a while. I feel agonizingly uncomfortable under the neighbor's gaze, and I decide it's time to get rid of him.

"I think Andrew might be in the bathroom..." I suggest. Now, you have to understand that I have indeed been well trained by my parents to say something like, "he's indisposed right now" instead of "he's in the shower" or "he's in the bathroom." But at this point, I think the neighbor is looking at me like I'm the other woman, and I can't bring myself to say "he's indisposed," lest he interprets it all sleazy-like.

"Can you just tell him we're ready for him to come over?" he asks.

"Sure, I'll let him know."

I smile. Neighbor smiles. Neighbor leaves. I shut the door. Just then Andrew appears. "Your neighbor came to say they're ready," I tell him.

"Okay, great!"

________________


Apparently the neighbors asked about me that night at their dinner, and I'm glad that Andrew could explain to them who I am and why I'm there, and remind them that my car has been in the driveway for 8 months now (wow...I can't believe it's been that long). But it sure made me feel icky when I thought the neighbor might think ill of me. As I said, sometimes living in another family's basement can put me in odd situations. :-) But I love 'em (the family, not the situations).