I wanted to be in bed about one point five hours ago, but I accidentally turned on the ESPYs, and the ESPYs started being awesome, so I couldn't turn them off. The UNI Panthers (from the town I live in) won an award for being better than everyone else and Ed Thomas' family won an award for basically being the coolest family ever. For those who don't know, Ed Thomas was a high school coach from Parkersburg, IA who was shot dead last summer by one of his former players. It's too early to find any sort of Youtube video of the ESPY presentation, but do yourself a favor and try to find it. ESPN aired an incredible tribute video which was followed by an even more incredible speech by Ed Thomas' son. Good, powerful stuff.
So, after crying my eyes out and getting adrenalized, I started doing chores. The dishes are now done. That's good. The laundry is almost done, but it's not put away. That's half good. I even put some stuff in the fridge. Good job me. At about 10:05, I decided to lay on the floor. I don't know why I didn't decide to lay on the couch. The couch is much more comfortable. In fact, I'm still on the floor. I could rectify this situation before I finish typing this sentence.
I did not rectify the situation before finishing that sentence. I am still on the floor.
At about 10:10 my dog starts to freak out and bark at the front window like someone is there. I think, "No one would come over at 10:10 because people are too busy sleeping and watching local news broadcasts." Then I look at the window and sure enough there is a very large, cut Hispanic man outside. He was not threatening. He was smiling and waving. I was very confused. But hey, I like tacos as much as the next guy and since this guy might be carrying them in the sombrero he wore, I figured I'd answer the door (I guess this means it be really easy to rob me?).
The man smiled wider and said, "Doorbell!" Okay. That's interesting. No one ever says that when I answer the door. Most of the time they say, "You're due in court next July. You're WAY overdue on your child support payments." And I say, "I think you mean my brother. He lives in Ankeny." And then most of them say, "Our mistake. Have a good day." But not this guy. This guy said, "Doorbell!" I did what any person would have done in this situation. I said, "Hell yeah! Doorbell!" and reached out to high five the man.
The man shook his head and pointed at the doorbell which was on the ground because Aspen Exteriors never put the doorbell back on the house when they left the dumpster in our driveway for too long. I was disappointed. Here I thought God had sent me a complementary doorbell enthused taco delivery (if that's a thing, and that thing is gross, I didn't know), when instead he'd sent me a doorbell repairman way past the witching hour (which I declare is 9:00pm). The man then asked if he could repair the doorbell. I know this because he said, "Doorbell," and pointed at the two wires sticking out of the side of my house.
I nodded and said, "Doorbell."
We'd really bonded. The man then yelled something back at the other not-taco delivery man in the driveway and started drilling into my house (also, it's easy to let me let you drill into my house?). Then he attached the doorbell. It was a routine repair. He then rang the doorbell. I went to the door. I opened the door. He stood there, grinned, and gave me an exaggerated thumbs up. I gave him a thumbs up. We nodded. The word "doorbell" went unspoken but it lingered over our every action.
Thank you Doorbell Man for fixing the doorbell you should have fixed when you actually put up the siding. No thanks to you Doorbell Man for giving me a craving for chips, salsa, burritos, tacos, enchiladas, tostadas, and Diet Pepsi this late at night.
Is it okay to stereotype when the stereotype your race gets saddled with is awesome, like tacos?
Well I have to go to bed now. Wish me luck fellow travelers!
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