As I gathered my scattered belongings, someone knocked on our door--a woman wearing a very pink shirt and pants covered in big, tropical prints. Of course, the rental inspector arrives now.
Why isn't this rental inspector coming inside? Maybe she wants to start by walking the perimeter of the yard. Ari heard me talking and came to the door.
Ari, sensing the woman's hesitation, introduced himself.
And with those friendly words, she rallied.
I don't know what was more awkward: the fact that this lady had no idea Ari is Jewish and does not want to go to a Jehovah's Witness meeting, or the fact that I had just invited her to come walk around in our house for no apparent reason.
And that's why I'm a terrible spouse.