Doors, Pants, Elephants And A Visitor From God

Some years ago I had one of those rare mornings when I couldn't unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth even if I'd wanted to.  I'd slept the night through, without disturbance, but felt that another twenty-four hours sleep wouldn't go amiss.

My usual ability to bounce out of bed and be instantly capable of taking part in a political debate or cracking half a dozen jokes before my first cup of coffee had stayed in bed that morning.

I wandered around zombie-like; in a semi-daze. I didn't have the where-with-all to figure out complicated things such as taps, kettle or making coffee, so I dumped myself onto the sofa and waited for the fog to lift.

The doorbell rang

I opened the door in my pants.

Yes, I DO know what you are thinking.  That's a strange place for a door! 

I would like to point out that I most certainly am not an exhibitionist ... I gave all that up after a rather unfortunate chance meeting with a female graffiti artist and her spray can of green luminous paint.
That stuff was really difficult to remove, but on the plus side, it meant that for two weeks or so, whenever I needed to pee in the night, there was no need for me to turn on any lights in order to hit the 'target'!
 
No, I can assure you that the door I opened was firmly embedded in the front wall of our house and not actually in my pants, which sported a pretty cool picture of an elephants head on the front.

I just wasn't thinking.  Someone was at the door, so I went to see who was there. My apparel, or lack thereof, didn't seem to be important at the time.

Anyway ...

... I opened the door (embedded in the front wall of our house) and standing on the doorstep, looking away from me towards a parked car, was a smartly dressed, elderly lady.

"Yes?" I said.

"Ah! Hello! I'm from The Holy Saviour Church ..." she said as she turned.

"I'd like to talk to you about ..."

She looked down at my elephant head.

"... JESUS CHRIST!!!" she shrieked.

At that point, I was awake. The 'fog' was lifted as the sudden realisation that I was standing at the open front door, visible to the whole wide world and it's dog, in my underwear hit me.

"Sorry!" I said stepping behind the door, which unfortunately is mostly glass.  "I'm not a believer!  Thank you. Bye!"

I slammed the door, most ungentlemanly, in her face and ran for the safety of the kitchen as the build up of shame generated, furness-like heat, burned my face.

After all this time, I can still feel some of that heat when I remember the incident.