A house is normally a home. The home you come home to at the end of the day. The home that keeps you warm in the winter and in dry and cosy in winter. A home that your children return to after a day at school and tell you their troubles. My house (ok my landlords house) is my home. A house consists of something along the lines of a floor, roof and walls with doors and windows. Apart from the obvious bits like keeping you warm, dry and safe, the walls have other purposes like to show people the boundary of what’s yours. What you want to keep safe.
So why do I feel guilty when a sales man, odd job man or anyone else I don’t know knocks at the door and I won’t answer? It’s my home. The door is there to let people I want into the house and just because they have rang the doorbell it doesn’t mean there is an automatic right for me to open the door. It’s my choice, my door and up to me who I open my door to.
The only problem is my front door is glass and I have huge windows in the front too so ignoring the front door is sometimes very obvious. I try to keep busy so not look at them, so they ring the doorbell again and again.
But I stand by my choices and I will continue to ignore the door to people I don’t want to answer too. I just need to get better curtains.