Later: I "Googled" the Harley man. He's all over the internet - photos, bios, comments on political stuff, motorcycles, racing, he's everywhere. I'd have put him mid-40s - turns out he's only three years younger than I.
Oomph!
I have his cell phone number, and had been thinking I should perhaps call, like maybe tomorrow, to thank him again for the flowers. Although I hesitate to call. I don't know. I'm a little shy/reluctant to get that personal (says she who researched the man). But now I have his email address (and his home address, his wife's name and photo, his father's name, his employment info, where he went to school and when he graduated - damn, I'm good!), and I'm more inclined to send a note.
Why do I have to do anything at all? Because I heard his car coming up the drive and met him outside on the driveway. When I saw it was him, I said that I was expecting some kind of delivery man. He said that wouldn't have been proper. He handed me one bunch of flowers, and said that he'd carry the other. I said that's ok, I can handle them both.
See, it's an almost two hour drive, just to thank me for rescuing him. The polite thing to do would have been to invite him in for something cool to drink, and a bathroom, and I think he was expecting that. I didn't. Because my house is a wreck. No other person has been in this house in three years, for very good reason. I tell people that if the SPCA saw what my cats live in, they'd take them away from me, and people think I'm kidding. I'm not.
And now I feel very guilty, super inhospitable, and he probably feels snubbed, and I hate to leave it like that.
I mean, over three hours driving, round trip, and a five minute conversation in the driveway and dismissal. Not nice. I feel like I ought to explain and apologize. (I doubt that will have him winging back up here, so I think it would be ok.)
Opinions?
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1 comment:
Write a nice note to thank him for the flowers. In it, say something like, I apologize for not inviting you in, but I was painting my kitchen / reflooring the living room / in the process of rearranging my bookcases. (People will never believe the mess. I relate. I understand. I believe.) Conclude by saying that you hope the next time he and Mrs. Harley are in the neighborhood, they will allow you to treat for lunch or dinner. Honestly? Mrs. Harley must be in the picture, or it's a no-go. But that's just me.
Also - check http://www.flylady.net. Don't let the sappiness get to you and all the gooey "Good Lord" stuff. The system works.
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