I love beautiful front doors and charming entryways. I often stop and take a photo and I try to imagine what lies beyond, but it would never enter my mind to ring the doorbell or knock on the door.
When my doorbell rings unexpectedly, my first reaction is, 'what the fuck! Who the hell is ringing my doorbell and what the fuck do they want?' I actually get a fright, I tense up and I sometimes break into a micro sweat. Then I run to my security monitor and have a look at the intruding muppet standing outside my gate.
If it isn't a postal-delivery or a courier dropping off a new pair of shoes, a handbag, or yet another camera filter for Mr Fritz, and I don't recognise the person, I tend to ignore them and get back to what I was doing before. If the doorbell rings unexpectedly on a weekend or a public holiday then I definitely ignore them and mumble something along the lines of 'fuck off, how dare you intrude on my personal space!'
If however, it's someone I recognise, I might break into a secondary micro sweat because I now have to talk to the intercom and find out what the fuck they want and worse case scenario, I might even have to go outside! One night I was happily sitting on the sofa minding my own business when the doorbell rang. It was my neighbour! Jesus Christ! What the hell did he want at this hour?! "Hello?" I said, in a not-so-overly-friendly and questioning way. "I've noticed you haven't put your bins out yet and thought maybe you forgot," was his response. "Oh, okay, thanks for the reminder! Bye!"
On another occasion, I was outside pottering in my courtyard, which is right near my front gate, when the doorbell rang. I could hear the person and I knew they could hear me - it was so awkward! So I said "hi." He said "hi" back and explained he was selling vouchers for a charity and asked if I could come to the gate. Shiiit! I was sucked in! I met him around the front and spent at least twenty tedious minutes in the hot sun listening to his spiel and buying the worlds most irritating vouchers. First, I had to register online, then choose the vouchers which were mailed to me many weeks later. I then could go an exchange them for goods at various outlets, eg. Seven Eleven, Service stations, and Village Cinemas. It was a massive pain in the arse and I decided it was the last fucking time I'd be sucked into crap like this.
Now this is a door! I absolutely love it. It's so bold and solid and gives me the impression it would definitely keep intruders away. This gorgeous gate and door combo in Budapest.
Now, before you jump to conclusions and decide that I'm an unfriendly, uncharitable frigid cow, there are actually several reasons why I don't like it when people, any people, be it, friends, family, neighbours or strangers drop by, and ring my doorbell.
Surprise surprise, I'm not a 50's housewife, on standby, looking all done-up, with a tray of canapes and the perfect ingredients for a killer martini. No. Not even close! I have 'home clothes,' another suitable adjective could be 'homeless' clothes. These consist of a couple of very well-worn track pants in winter and short shorts in summer, too short for the public gaze. My home clothes also include ancient T-Shirts and jumpers, and Birkenstock sandals. In winter I wear these with socks. It all looks quite hideous but it's extremely comfortable.
And one more thing. I never wear a bra at home. This delights me because I hate the constraints of a bra and it's bad enough I have to wear it in the outside world. It also delights Mr Fritz as he has numerous breast-jiggle sightings throughout the day. But again, this 'look' isn't for the public, so when the doorbell rings and I'm dressed like this, you can imagine, the last thing I want to do is bound to gate and see someone!
Sometimes I don't vacuum for weeks until it's super crunchy underfoot and the dust bunnies start to take over. Mr Fritz and I can tolerate this for a short while but, I wouldn't want to subject any friends or family to such hostile conditions. Sometimes my pantry and fridge are empty, with not a chip or cracker in sight, no beers or mineral water and definitely no freshly-baked cakes. So I don't appreciate people popping in for a chat because I have nothing to offer them, other than a glass of tap water or an overripe banana.
Other times I haven't cleaned the bathroom or I've run out of toilet paper and all you'll find is a box of tissues balancing on the toilet roll holder. Or I'm busy writing or having a soak in the bath. I might be having a workout in our garage gym or binge-watching Game of Thrones on a Thursday afternoon with Mr Fritz. So don't ring my doorbell unexpectedly - it's super annoying and totally intrusive.
This is a door I spotted in one of Melbourne's northern suburbs. I love the textural mix of the brick wall, the timber door and the hotch potch corrugated awning. The only thing missing is a peep hole! I'd want to have a look before I opened the door.
