Save my soul later, I'm busy

The moment I got up this morning, I started cleaning. I was still a little loopy though, as I didn't give myself enough time to recover from the strange Tim Burton-esque dreams I had last night, so it figures that I wouldn't think before opening the front door when the doorbell chimed over the screaming vacuum. I say screaming because these boys haven't vacuumed since the last time I was here, which was in September. And they didn't do the cleaning. It was me.

So out of breath and without looking through the peephole, I open the door to find two people standing there with Bibles propped up in their hands. They had the biggest smiles on their faces. Their smiles were so big they were almost disturbing, with wicked, maliciousness. Smiles that communicated to me "You must be terribly busy, but we don't care!"

"Oh my God, it's Sunday?" I asked with horror displayed on my face.

"Everyday is the Lord's day!" They were either oblivious or just as sarcastic. They caught onto my game immediately, and I didn't even get to play. I then imagined myself backing away slowly with the same wide-toothed smile as to not offend the species until I was able to close the door without them tearing me about like rabid, mouth foaming, Bible preaching, door knockers.

"You must be busy. We won't keep you too long," one of them said, as if he were being polite. I was covered in sweat, I smelled terrible, and the look on my face must have displayed my disinterest, but I couldn't bring myself to treat them like telemarketers. "We don't want any! And...and screw you!" *CLICK* Or my favorite, "Sure! Let me just find my credit card. Can you hold on for a second?" Set the phone down and just walk away. They will give up after about ten minutes.

Those people don't have souls.

But these people were trying to save mine. So I stood there and dealt with the endless Bible verses for thirty minutes. I'm too damn nice for my own good. The entirety of their lecture consisted of my eye twitching, me playing with the door, and the occasional glance over my shoulder to the half-wiped windows that I needed to tend to. I assumed they would get the message, but they were persistent little buggers.

And now I'm sitting on the couch, typing this out in defeat, covered in pamphlets and notes with verses on them. I don't feel like my soul was saved, I feel like it was sucked out of me. And the windows still aren't done.

Ugh.