My Week 262: All Along The Watchtower

A few weeks ago, I decided to decorate my bathroom. Well, I didn’t really DECIDE to do it; it was more of a defensive reaction to Ken constantly complaining that he hated the wallpaper. Personally, I love the wallpaper, which is a Waverly print of large cabbage roses, but for some reason, Ken finds it off-putting and outdated. Fair enough, since it’s been the same since we moved into the house 15 years ago and perhaps it was time for a change. So I scoured the decorating magazines that I regularly receive in the hope of finding inspiration. What my brain really wanted was something in cool, gray neutral tones, featuring a vanity with a marble top and brushed silver accessories like this:

Unfortunately, my heart had other ideas. I’m convinced at this point that in another life, I was a very gay Victorian man, if my interior design sense is any indication. And that’s not a stereotype—if you know anything at all about Oscar Wilde, you would know that his Aesthetic style was pretty much the way any man of certain proclivities back in the day would decorate:

And while a dining room like this (not mine…yet) might be horrifying to many of you, it fills me with joy. I will die on a hill of Persian rugs to defend this. And so it was that, instead of a sleek, modern white vanity with a smooth white marble top, I was immediately drawn to this particular monstrosity, which I ultimately decided that I couldn’t live without:

Plus it was on Facebook Marketplace and it was a great buy. Ken and I went out on Friday night after work to pick it up. Unfortunately, the granite countertop can’t be removed, so while Ken and the seller loaded it into our SUV, once we got it home, we were stymied. I don’t have anywhere near the upper body strength to help unload it, so it’s currently still in the vehicle.

At the same time, I was contacted through Marketplace about a small antique cupboard that I’m trying to sell. I’m only asking $25 but I can’t even GIVE the damn thing away. I had a woman who was supposed to come for it and stood me up twice, then gave ME a bad seller rating, and on Saturday, I once again was waiting for some rando to take it off my hands. Which brings me to the point of the story, which is less about furniture and more about why, on Saturday morning, I got out of the bath that I had just stepped into and ran downstairs to the door in my housecoat. As I had just been about to sit down, I happened to look out the window and saw two women coming up the walkway, and I assumed it was the person who was buying the cupboard arriving early. It wasn’t until I got downstairs, leaving wet footprints in my wake, that I realized one of the women was carrying a bible. But before I could beat a hasty, soggy retreat, they saw me and smiled and waved, so I had no choice but to open the door. They were, as you might have guessed, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and here is why they were standing on my doorstep:

A few years ago, the Jehovah’s Witnesses came by our house for the first time. I was never comfortable with the usual reaction that many people have to this circumstance, which is generally to tell them to go away and shut the door in their faces, so I politely took a pamphlet, thanked them, and wished them a good day. In retrospect, I think Option A might have been the better choice, because now they come by regularly, and they know me BY NAME. Let me just point out that the woman who came to our house on Saturday was accompanied by another younger woman, a complete stranger, yet she had the intel on us, like a religious Mata Hari, and called Titus by name. It occurred to me long ago that they imagine me as a new recruit. “Her dog licked me this time,” they might report back. “It’s a good sign—tell Jehovah that she could be one of the 144,000, and let Bob know he probably just lost his spot in Jehovah heaven.” Little do they know that Titus will lick anything–in fact, I just had to tell him to stop licking the refrigerator.

But I don’t want to be a Jehovah’s Witness. That sounds really whiny and self-centred, since I’d be such a victory for them and whatnot, but there are some serious drawbacks to joining them. First and foremost, I like Christmas, and I hear that you can’t celebrate Christmas or your birthday either if you’re JW. What kind of f*cking religion is THAT? No Christmas or birthday presents? Presents are great—even Jesus got presents. Second, they don’t drink. Right away, I foresee a problem with this—I would almost immediately rebel, and it would become obvious really quickly. “Hey did you see that sign of the apocalypse?” “Uh, no sorry, I was opening another bottle of wine…” (Actually, I just looked it up and they ARE allowed to drink in ‘moderation’, but unless ‘moderation’ means ‘as much as I want’, it’s pretty much a deal-breaker.) And lastly, and maybe most importantly, I could never get Ken to buy into whatever the JWs believe in, so he’d have to leave me. And I say it like that because I have no plan to move after all the decorating I’ve done, so he would have to get an apartment. But I’m a sucker for door to door salespeople, this is the problem. Once, Ken and I had some people over, and we were drinking ‘moderately’ when a guy came to the door selling golf packages to a local country club:

Me: Ken, this is a great deal. I’m totally buying one of these.
Ken: But we don’t golf.
Me: Yes, we do. We’ve golfed.
Ken: We went golfing once. And you were more interested in driving the cart than hitting the ball.
Me: You’re crazy. I love golf.
Ken: *rolls eyes*

So I bought the golf package. It’s still on my desk, two years later. I think it’s expired. Which brings me back to the fact that, just as I’m a lousy country club member, I would also be a terrible Witness. I would suck at going door to door and talking up Jehovah to people. I think it’s pretty well-known by now, if you come here often, that I’m not a huge fan of talking to strangers. I tried being an Avon lady once, but I never made any sales, and people LIKE Avon. I’d just end up throwing Watchtowers onto people’s porches and running away, like I used to do with Avon catalogues. (My favourite edition of The Watchtower was “Satan—is he real?” The article started, “Like carbon monoxide, Satan is invisible, very hard to detect, and extremely dangerous.” So if my carbon monoxide detector goes off, does that mean Satan is in my house? Should I call the fire department or a priest?) Ultimately, since I just don’t have it in me to be rude to people who are so pleasant (even though they are secretly scheming for my eternal soul), I think the best thing to do is leave a recycling bin on the porch full of wrapping paper, ribbons, and liquor bottles, and train Titus to stop licking strangers. Otherwise, I’ll be coming to a neighbourhood near you soon.

By the way, I just paid to have the ads removed from my site. Let me know if you’re still being harassed by pictures of foot fungus.

47 thoughts on “My Week 262: All Along The Watchtower

  1. So with you on this. I was nice to the JW when they came round 25 years ago, and – even after I MOVED – they found me, and kept bringing round the new recruits, to train them, I think. Eventually I installed a camera by my front door so I could check before I opened it. Ludicrous but effective.
    PS They don’t vote, either.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Yes, I always get the new recruits, I think because it’s a good way to ease them into doorknocking because I’m always polite. I’ve stopped answering the door on Saturday morning for the most part, but I had a cupboard to sell, dammit. Which I later did, and I was clean and dressed by that point!

      Liked by 1 person

    • That’s true — JWs don’t vote or participate in government of any kind, because they answer to a “higher authority.” (I notice they never exactly turn down government services or subsidies, though.) Technically, they don’t celebrate holidays… though most of the JWs I know get together for a big family meal on the Friday following Thanksgiving — coincidentally, I’m sure — and another Witness I’m acquainted with has her grandkids over on December 26 for what she calls “Gifting Day.”

      Who’d have guessed even the infallible Word of God is loopholed…?

      Liked by 2 people

  2. since i read your posts in the reader I have no idea if ads are popping up..just in case they are though, could you just order me some foot fungus spray and I’ll pay ya back next Saturday when I bring by several religious tracts i just KNOW you are going to love? Thanks!

    Like

  3. I was waiting for the story of Oscar Wilde’s last words being “Either the wallpaper goes or I do,” but then I was completely distracted by Titus licking the refrigerator.
    It makes perfect sense, of course. The refrigerator feeds him which is more than can be said for the Jehovah’s Witnesses.
    They’re lucky you’re uncomfortable talking to strangers, though, and more willing to take what they offer than ask for anything. Someone else might have asked them to redecorate the bathroom.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I can so your Oscar Wilde side, your inner self is a Victorian romantic, lol. You know who else come around your door to bother you? Those teenagers/kids selling magazines. I’ve had both JW and magazine sales peeps constantly, so I decided to give one of those kids a break and buy something from him. That was eight months ago and I never received my subscription. But I cancelled my check soon after because I researched that some of these things are scams.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Some people get all the solicitation fun. The Mormons or JWs never stop by my place. I’d welcome the chance to turn one or all of them toward my way of thinking. I have my own pamphlets in a cubby in the kitchen just waiting to be fondled by the likes of a Believer, it’s titled “God is good if you have an IQ less than 100.”

    Before you get too wrapped up in Victorian era water closets you might peruse The Pink Agendist’s site: justmerveilleux.wordpress.com. He’s got a sharp eye for ancient, crusty furniture and accoutrements. (All the cool kids hang out there.)

    Liked by 1 person

  6. My Mum was too polite that one day and took a pamphlet. Years later, she still gets visited by ‘Angela’! My poor Mum even invited her in for tea one day.
    Me, I just run and hide upstairs. I even switched the TV off and whisked my toddler into the kitchen to avoid them one day.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. When I was a kid, my mother would invite JW’s in, listen to their entire speech, gladly take a Watchtower magazine, and then complain to us for the next two days about it. We always argued, “Then why do you invite them in???”

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Hi ya, it sounds like chaos around your way. I hope you can find the look you’re looking for. As for JW’s be very, very careful. They’re slimy and slippery sods, not only is there no birthday or Christmas but no charities and no blood transfusions. INdeed there are stories about high up JW’s telling parents to rip the tubes out of a child. However plasma is ok for some reason… but that the other thing, They make the rules up to suit themselves. I talk to them but given them a piece of my mind… just don’t get suckered in 🙂

    Like

  9. My carbon monoxide alarm does not go off so I’m pretty sure that Satan is not in my house. However, I am having trouble with not just one, but two smoke alarms going off randomly and for no reason. Could be Satan’s redneck little brother since I have ten-foot ceilings and don’t regularly keep a ladder in the house. So, last night when it happened again I got out the mop and beat the shit out of that little sucker. Hopefully, the little brother is gone…

    Liked by 1 person

  10. I see no ads. Consider your investment a complete success. 🙌

    I have a particular weakness for the coupon books. Kids from schools and old folks with their lodge or church fundraisers and whatnot come around and I give them my $5, my $10, or my $20 without hesitation. If the youngster is particularly fumbling through their presentation I help them along until they finish, asking a question or adding a comment they should use, and then I ask them – particularly if they’re sheepish – if I can have two or three. They really brighten up then. I’d like to think they’re more emboldened at the next house after leaving me.

    And here’s the rub:

    In all my years I have never used a single one of those damn coupons. Not once.

    I suppose that makes me a special kind of idiot, but that’s just Tom, being Tom. 😉

    Marvel licks everything, too. Lately it’s his brother’s inner ear. It annoys the SHIT out of Ludo, but Marvel just keeps on finding him, wherever he goes in the house, and keeps on licking. I’m beginning to think “special kind of idiot” fumes run throughout the house.

    Do they have a detector for that?

    Liked by 1 person

    • I regularly have to yell “oh my god stop licking my pants”. I should yell that right before I answer the door—scare the JWs away for good. We never get the coupon kids though—that would be fun!

      Liked by 1 person

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