When the doorbell rings at two o’clock in the morning, it can’t be good news.

Not long ago, it did.  At first, the ringing fit in somehow with what I was dreaming, so I didn’t wake up.  When it persisted, I finally opened my eyes, and after I realized what it was, I flew out of bed and bolted towards the front door.

Of course, I was in my nightgown, but I was so panicked I didn’t care who saw what.  I thought maybe the house was on fire.  Or maybe one of the kids had snuck out and it was the police at the door with the culprit in tow.  Or maybe one of our college kids was in town, but why?  Were they hurt? 

It’s amazing how many scary thoughts can race through your mind in the two seconds it takes to run across the house.

I turned on the porch light and peeked through the window.  My heart nearly stopped.  It was a policeman, but he didn’t have anybody in tow.  Now my mind was racing with even worse thoughts. 

I cracked open the door, now fully awake and aware of (1) how bad I must look, and (2) the fact that I didn’t have a robe on.

He had grave concern on his face.  “Yes?” I inquired apprehensively.

“Ma’am,” he said in all seriousness, “did you know your house has been wrapped?”

After the relief swept over my body, I managed to squelch the smile tugging at the corners my mouth.  It must have been a slow night for the local police, although it was nice to know the cops keep an eye on the neighborhood.  He said he had driven by an hour before and saw nothing, then drove by again and noticed all the toilet paper.

And he wanted to catch them.  He asked me to come outside and look at some of the graffiti written on the driveway in shaving cream to see if I could give him any clues.  So, I had to put my robe on after all.  And the fuzzy slippers.

So, there I am … in my nightclothes … out in the front yard … in the middle of the night … with a policeman.  My husband never even woke up.  I could be strangled in the bed beside him and he wouldn’t wake up.

Was I mad, you might be wondering?  Tired, yes.  But mad?  No.

You see, house wrapping has been around for as long as anyone can remember.  Waking up to having your house wrapped is like waking up to snow covering the lawn or waking up on Christmas morning and seeing what Santa has brought you.  You get a giddy feeling of surprise and excitement all at the same time.

In other words, having your house wrapped means someone likes you.  It’s flirting at its finest.

Sure, the cleanup is a chore, and if it happens too often it gets irritating, but it’s not bad enough that I want to get someone in trouble for it.  I told the nice policeman that I had no earthly idea who could have done it.

So he left and I went back to bed.  The next morning our house was all abuzz about whether it was boys who had wrapped it because of my daughter, or girls who had done it because of my son.  We decided it was the former.  We laughed.  We took pictures. 

My daughter and her friends “vowed” to get even.  That meant they are prepared to flirt back.

I sure hope the same officer isn’t on duty.