And so it begins.
Today after work there comes a knock at the door, as if it somebody gently tapping, tapping at my apartment door. I looked up from book and yelled, “Hey, quit with the racket!”. But still there came this tapping, this gentle rapping, at my apartment door…
So I rush to the door intent to give them what for… Because of that damn rapping, that tapping, at my apartment door. So I open the door, my countenance fearsome to behold, and what do I see, but 4 little girls ’bout 12 years old. With much giggling, smiling and then asking with a tee-hee, “Mr Scary Sir, can we please talk? Talk to little Daniel Lee?”
Ugh… With apologies to Mr. Poe, I find it helps in dealing with the oncoming preteen romance dance…