A man in military fatigues showed up at the house yesterday. I opened the door and he immediately asked if Tim Eberhard (my brother) lived here. I told him he didn’t. He then asked if I knew where he did live.
If you jump right into asking where someone lives without telling the person you’re asking why you want to know, that’s a strange thing. So I said “I’m not going to talk to you.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I don’t have to.”
“I’m not going to speak to you.”
It went on like that. I must’ve said “I’m not going to talk to you” six times. It turns out that he wanted to know if Tim wanted to go into the reserves. But what the hell?
Anywho, I’m off to Fayetteville to help my brother move today. I’ll be back tomorrow to blog this stupidity.