Mi casa es su casa. AKA the drop in.

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How do you feel about the “drop in”? You know, when someone just turns up at your door with no notice?

I have mates on both side of the fence. A particularly good friend has little kids and babies, and while I am always welcome there, I do her the courtesy of a text, asking whether now would be a convenient time for me to pop in. Whereas others could not give to hoots. Either way, it doesn’t bother me. Each to their own, and all that jazz.

Me? I have certain friends who come under that DROP IN WELCOME file. They are the sort of friends who will saunter though the back door and will not judge me if they find me in my undies eating leftover barbecue chicken over the sink. They will simply flick the kettle on and ask me if I am going to eat that drumstick, because if I am not going to can they have it because they are starving.

So yesterday I was on day four of nursing duty, thanks to this viral situation that is just hanging around like a desperate lothario when last drinks are called. I was in the kitchen when I heard the side gate open, and the sound of footsteps. Goodie! One of my mates has come over for a natter!

“Is that you my lover?” I hollered out as I scrubbed the sink.


So I went to the door and stuck my leg out in a suggestive manner… “I am ready for you baby…”

Little did I know that standing there was the electricity meter man, who was probably thinking “This might just be the best day of my life, or the worst, depending on who that tracksuit leg belongs to…”

I popped my head out and had a complete heart attack. He pointed at the electricity meter, situated next to the back door.

“Sorry. I was expecting someone else…” I stammered….

He raised his eyebrows.

“I thought you were one of my girl friends…..” I told him.

Eyebrows were raised further.

“Good day to you sir, I wish you good day.” And with that said, I shut the door and ran into my bedroom.

The drop in. Do you do it? Do you welcome it?

Have you ever really fucked up?