The sound of the doorbell broke my nice post-holiday slumber. I ignored it on the assumption Terri or one of the kids would separate themselves from whatever screen they were attached to and answer it.
The second ding reinforced my belief that no one in the house but me answers a ringing doorbell. I was off the couch and down the hallway when I caught sight of a man peering into one of the little side windows at the door like a nosy neighbor.
The big night had arrived. I checked the equipment neatly laid out on my desk. Welder’s mask, and the respirator to wear under it. A dozen medical face masks in case the welder’s mask and/or respirator malfunctioned. A four gallon jug of hand sanitizer. Medical booties to put over my shoes.
I was all set for the Holiday Office Party 2020 style.
The last of the lights were up, the halls were officially decked and I stood back to admire my handiwork. I was about three seconds into the admiration when Terri walked into the room.
“I don’t know,” she said, “it seems…lacking.”
I glanced around at the more than seven-hundred light bulbs spread out around the downstairs, not to mention the ones outside, and tried to see where the holiday decorations were lacking.
Wilson appeared at the door to my office and placed his hands on the chair that was blocking the entrance.
“Why is there a chair in your doorway?” he asked.
“For visitors to sit in,” I said.
I turned back to pecking away at the keyboard and surfing the web. I checked on prices for the diamond earrings I was thinking of buying Terri. But I was hesitant. How did I know they weren’t made in some knockoff factory in China? Or maybe by a kid with a 3D printer in Florida?