Doorbell Ready?

You know the expression, "company-ready." That means you've busted your butt to get the house looking good enough for company to see it. I don't have that problem because I have a lady who cleans the house for me. I know, I'm spoiled, you hate me, get over it.

No, the problem I have is getting myself doorbell ready. I like to putz around in the mornings in my jammies. If the doorbell rings, I can answer it without embarrassment - usually - because my jammies are PG rated. I mean, it's not like that's what I sleep in. Ahem. And besides, I've already run my hands through my hair so it looks more like fashionable faux bedhead than real bedhead, and I've had coffee and can thus focus my eyeballs. It's on days like this, and on days where I've actually dressed early and have my makeup on that the doorbell almost never rings.

But for those rare (ahem) mornings that I want to sleep in because I've been up late the night before working at my computer (ahem), that's when, invariably, someone decides to ring my doorbell. No wait - if all my PG rated jammies are in the dirty clothes hamper AND I'm sleeping late - that's when it rings. It's much easier to grab clean jammies from the dresser drawer and put them on, albeit hopping around on one foot and then the other to get them on, then pulling the top over my head (usually inside-out) on the way down the stairs, than to go to the closet and try to put an outfit together in ten seconds flat.

Know what I mean?

So now I'm thinking what I really need to do is prepare (now THERE's a concept) for such contingencies. Remember that episode of the Dick Van Dyke show when Laura was preggers, and Rob wanted to be certain, absolutely certain, that he would be ready to get her to the hospital in case her labor began in the middle of the night? He practiced getting out of bed and getting his hat and coat on in seconds flat. He was already wearing his suit and tie. The problem was the hat and coat.

Especially the hat. In those olden TV-land days, married couples "slept" in twin beds with a nightstand sentinel between them. There was skinny Rob, laying ramrod straight on his back on that skinny little bed, timing himself on how fast he could get his hat on when The Moment arrived. He placed it on the headboard and adjusted and readjusted it until he could reach up behind him, grab his hat, and have it on his head before his feet hit the floor. I know everyone will remember that classic comedic scene.

This is planning at its finest. Of course, when The Moment arrived for Rob and Laura Petrie, nothing went off as planned. But I digress. I'm going to make a plan for doorbell readiness. My plan will not include a hat. Just so you know.

Now, if I could just find out how to keep my doorbell from ringing every time someone rings the neighbor's bell...