try NASA....

today was my day off. so, i woke around noon, read my comics, and showered. i got dressed in my day-off outfit ... a tank top and underwear. i really don't see the need to wear pants if i'm not going anywhere.

today's forecast: two movies and a ninety percent chance of tropical punch kool-aid. scattered packing.

so, i was sitting, watching the afternoon episode of seventh heaven and thinking about how coincidental it is that all the camdens get the same type of problem at the same time, when the doorbell rang.

i stood up from my nest of floor pillows and looked around the living room for some pants.

the doorbell kept ringing.

pants. pants. pants. i went into the bedroom. NO PANTS!

the doorbell is persistent. over and over again with the ringing!

finally, i just dash into the bathroom and grab my robe. i haul ass downstairs (we live above a dry-cleaners ... our door is right on the sidewalk). as i'm running down the stairs, tying my robe belt, i can hear the doorbell still ringing.

i got so excited ... i'm thinking ... only the ups guy rings in the middle of the day. we have no friends to stop by. what could it be?

i open the door to the heat and to the sidewalk and to ...

a tall man with buggy eyes and straggley hair wearing a pink tank top, blue shorts, about a half dozen mardi gras beads and a straw hat. he's carrying a pinkish purse. he's standing incredibly close to my door, like he needs to come in ... like he's in danger, yet he doesn't take his scared, empty eyes off of me. he does not miss a beat from when i open the door to when he quickly says, "i'm looking for the mary martin maggie dolan from over there and i can't find her any more and i haven't got a spaceship, can you help me?"

i shut the door and locked it, half expecting one of his hands to stop the door halfway.

i'm sorry, sir, what else could i do?

i don't own a spaceship.