Not my typical afternoon
It's not what I'd expect to see when I looked out my bedroom window: two strapping young Mennonite men standing in the back of a horse-drawn chariot. Not a "Ben-Hur goes to the Circus in Rome" chariot, more of a home-spun "Ezekial, hitch up the wagon and go into town, I'm out of flour" kind of chariot. I thought I'd heard a horse's hooves on the driveway! The doorbell rang, and when I answered it there was a young Mennonite boy of about 14. What followed was a conversation so bizarre that I can't even really transcribe it. For one thing, English was not this boy's first language, and I think he also felt more than a little awkward about talking to me. I was about to ask him to step inside when I realized that he'd probably faint away from embarrassment.
What I got out of him is that they were trying to deliver an order of fire wood, but they weren't sure which house it was but ours seemed to fit the bill. Did we order it? And I have to admit that I was stumped for a minute. I didn't order it, but maybe Dar had and I just didn't know about it. Then I remembered that last year we were going to buy from our friend, Deb, so I figured that probably wouldn't have changed. I said no, but he wasn't looking convinced. Or maybe he was just sad to have to continue ringing doorbells.
My favorite part came about halfway through the conversation (such as it was). He seemed so confused that I thought maybe I could help him figure things out.
"Did you get a name?" I asked.
"Ja, sure. Abner Horst."
Abner Horst, I'm thinking. Boy, doesn't sound familiar. Then it clicked.
"No. The buyer. Did you get the buyer's name?"
"Oh. (pause) No."
For all I know those poor guys are still trolling the sideroads and concessions trying to find this mysterious, anonymous buyer :)
What I got out of him is that they were trying to deliver an order of fire wood, but they weren't sure which house it was but ours seemed to fit the bill. Did we order it? And I have to admit that I was stumped for a minute. I didn't order it, but maybe Dar had and I just didn't know about it. Then I remembered that last year we were going to buy from our friend, Deb, so I figured that probably wouldn't have changed. I said no, but he wasn't looking convinced. Or maybe he was just sad to have to continue ringing doorbells.
My favorite part came about halfway through the conversation (such as it was). He seemed so confused that I thought maybe I could help him figure things out.
"Did you get a name?" I asked.
"Ja, sure. Abner Horst."
Abner Horst, I'm thinking. Boy, doesn't sound familiar. Then it clicked.
"No. The buyer. Did you get the buyer's name?"
"Oh. (pause) No."
For all I know those poor guys are still trolling the sideroads and concessions trying to find this mysterious, anonymous buyer :)