Why the missionaries hate me

These are the last two interactions I’ve had with the Elders. What would YOU think?

Most recent contact this week: Thursday we had an appointment for the missionaries to come over at 830. Because it was late, we agreed to drive them home so they would be back in time for their curfew. At about 8pm Jared tells me that he thinks he won’t be home until late. I try to call the missionaries to cancel, but they had already left for our house. Because of mission rules, they can’t come in without another male present so that means I would have to tell them hello, so sorry, and send them back home. I did just that but also managed to accept homemade cookies and direct them towards the subway, which only solidified my guilt from the first time this week.

First contact this week: Often the missionaries stop by when they are walking around Hoboken (suspiciously in time for dinner). At about 7pm earlier this week I was taking a nap waiting for Jared to come home. Because of what time he left the office I was expecting him any minute. I hear the bell ring and my first thought was Jared home but too lazy to use his keys to get in. I ignore the bell. The bell rings again. He must have left his keys at home. Half asleep I buzz the building door open, unlock the front door, leave it wide open and go back to bed. I fall asleep once again. A few minutes later I wake up wondering why Jared hadn’t come in to say hello. I listen carefully to see if I can hear any noises coming from the computer, tv, or bathroom. Nothing. Odd, but too tired to investigate I fall back to sleep again. A few more minutes later I wake up to whisperings coming from the front door, “Brother and Sister Stanley? Brother and Sister Stanley?”. Snap! It’s the missionaries. I had buzzed them into the building, left the door wide open to our apartment, and then went and hid in bed. NICE. I couldn’t avoid it now. I had to get up, get dressed, and 10 minutes later was at the door trying to explain why I had hid (or, our friends Patrick and Lindsay pointed out an even more uncomfortable way to look at it: why it looked like I was waiting for them in bed).


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