Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Ode to a solicitor.
I do not like you very much right now. I know, it isn't fair to make that assumption as I do not know you from Adam, but you woke me from my afternoon slumber and that really ticked me off.
I heard you pounding on my door and ringing my bell nonstop, but when I peaked out the window and saw it was you I refused to answer. That is my right. Again, nothing personal, I just didn't want to talk to you. Why? Firstly, because you very rudely roused me from my delicious snooze and secondly, because I did not want to waste five minutes of my time explaining to you why I do not want your services. One word: RECESSION.
Mr. Solicitor, no offense, but I don't want to see you anymore. Call it what you will just don't call on me. Because of you I've had to take matters into my own hands. Do not feel bad when you come back to my house and read the sign I have pasted on my door that reads..."NO SOLICITORS...AT ALL...EVER". You asked for it. You should know better than to mess with a sleep deprived woman.
Sleepless in Salt Lake City