Who Fires First?

A National phenomenon hit my doorstep today.  We sold a piece of furniture on that one guy’s list, and when a man rang our doorbell, he stood back 20 feet, hesitant to come inside to see it.

He was peering inside our house, shifting his weight around on our sidewalk. I was peering outside, yelling at my husband to hurry up, yelling at my son to go to the backyard.

See, we had a plan. When I told my son that we were selling something, he said, “What if we get murdered?” Just like that. Just like lock-down on school property. He’s growing up with this feeling, this knowledge and distrust, and since I don’t want to wean him off good street smarts, I said, “Well, yeah, we could. But statistically we won’t, but when the doorbell rings, go outside with the dog.” Just like that.

When I smiled at the nice college-aged man standing outside, and then opened the door and invited him in to “have a look,” he looked scared to death.

A quick thought went through my head: who fires first? People can’t stop selling furniture, right? People can’t stop searching for a deal, either. So if we’re both smart, we’ll both own guns, right?

What begs the question is how do we approach this awkward, social interaction? Do I answer the door with my gun drawn and cocked, and does he stand outside my front door with his gun drawn and cocked? Do we stand there with our guns drawn and cocked?

Is that the way to “play it smart?” We all own guns, and we all walk around ready to fire them? Because if you own a gun and it’s in your closet, or missing amongst the lipsticks rolling around in the bottom of your purse, you’re not ready, right? You’re not prepared to die. It’s much better to be prepared to die.

It’s midwinter, and the sun has just under 5-billion years before it explodes. I can’t be drawn and cocked that long.