Mommy and Sabrina, having spent some of the day with a former neighbor and her daughter, picked me up at work so I could take them home and go back to the office. When we pulled into the driveway, I wondered aloud whose Dodge Durango was parked out front, and just then the person in the Durango's passenger seat honked its horn, and from the back of the house emerged a young hispanic fellow with shaved head, a bunch of tattoos and a small pair of scissors. I asked him "Can I help you?" to which he responded that he was looking for a friend. I asked "Did you find him behind my house?" and he said no, opening his hands to show me either a) that he had nothing of mine, or b) that he had a pair of scissors he was going to stab me with if I didn't let him pass. As I was unarmed and my wife and daughter were in the car, I let him go and got his license number, which I gave to the police when I called 911.
Every once in a while I miss being single. This is one of those times. I hate the fact that my family is exposed to this kind of thing, and as much as I appreciate how dumb it would have been to confront the guy or get physical with him, I really wanted to. I still do, I'd love to find him and sjambok him on the face, but that's not the kind of thing you can do when you have a family to think about. Which is a good thing, but I still sometimes miss being stupid and thoughtless, and doing the first dumb thing that occurs to me.