The Curse of the Glass Front Door

The first, now-dreaded. knock came two weeks after we'd moved in. Through the leaded glass of the front door, I could see it was a neighbor across the street. As I swung the door open, a coffee cup was thrust under my nose. "I need a cup of sugar. Bobby needs sweetening for his coffee."

"I don't have any, " I blurted out - yes, somewhat taken aback. Silly me - I was expecting perhaps a greeting as a preface to her request.

"What?", exclaimed she. ""You don't mean to tell me you don't use sugar in your coffee?"

"No," I irritably answered. "I don't keep sugar in the house. I only use it around the holidays, when I do a lot of baking. Sorry. I have to get back to work." As she departed, I half-jokingly said to my daughter, "I'm not so sure I like having a glass front door."

The door is beautiful. The wood frame houses a leaded-glass panel. The sun, glinting on the glass, creates a gorgeous pattern on the hardwood floor. But this thing of beauty is no joy forever. When I buy this house, I am immediately purchasing a steel door. With a peephole. And adding a glass storm door.

Over the last year, Sugar Lady and her family of ne'er do wells have damn near driven me to distraction. Because I work from home, I am always the first stop as they take to the street for their daily "borrowing".

The family consists of four able-bodied adults and two children. Only one of the adults works. Their son and daughter-in-law spend their days lounging in front of the house, smoking cigarettes, chatting on their cell phones, and perfuming the air with F-bombs as they fight with each other. The son is currently on probation, therefore no longer able to supplement the family income as he used to - by breaking into houses in the neighborhood, then selling the stolen goodies for quick cash. He has a vigilant parole officer. Hence, the incessant borrowing.

The adults in the household, continually denied as they trolled the neighborhood, recently devised a new business plan. Who can resist the upturned face of a small child? Why not send the kiddies out begging, thus freeing up valuable smoking and fighting time for themselves?

As it's summer, the kids hit the streets anywhere from 7am to 10pm. Where the adults were rebuffed, many neighbors have caved in. The children usually return with their small, fat arms laden with goodies.

Mean single-mother-on-a-tight-budget that I am, I have hung a curtain over the cursed glass door, and no longer respond to the sound of the doorbell. Ever. Hopefully Publisher's Clearinghouse is not attempting to pay me a visit.

Yet the lawn still has to be mowed and the grocery shopping done. I am fairly safe while mowing the lawn, as I am protected by the roar of the mower, and a guaranteed fearful sight to small children as I sweat profusely in the heat.

But returning from the grocery store is when my daughter and I are most vulnerable to attack. We are usually able to sprint into the house with a few bags without incident. We congratulate ourselves if we manage to get a second trip to the car unaccosted. It's when we make the last trip to the car, to cart in the large bags of dog and cat food, where our luck tends to run out.

The children will stand by the open car door. They're little - about six and eight years old. The boy, the oldest, looks a bit embarressed. The little girl is more persistent. The requests will begin.

No, I will patiently say, I have no eggs/milk/butter/rice/sugar/coffee/bread/soda to give them. Undeterred, they will then ask for money, usually five dollars - no doubt, the parents are out of cigarettes. I will deny that request as well. They will march stoically down the driveway and head to the house next door.

Hoisting the pet food, my daughter and I will head into the house. I'll shut the glass door behind us. Both of us will feel badly, as we put the groceries away. I will tell my daughter, again, that I am going to replace the front door. We will both know that the lovely glass door, of course, is not really the problem.

There will still be a doorbell. And it will ring again tomorrow.