I've already complained before about my PORN doorbell (note: it stands for "Press Once, Rings Non-stop", in case you were wondering). Well, in the intervening six months neither me nor my invisible landlord has done anything about it since then. Recently, this has become less than convenient.
Last week, I was roused from well-deserved slumbers at the unheathen hour of 2am (I'd been asleep for all of ninety minutes) by my rasping doorbell. In a state of some confusion I rushed downstairs assuming it to be some pressing emergency, to find a young lady (somewhere between fourteen and forty in age, I being not suffiently awake to know fully what was going on). She enquired after C---- B-----, B----- being the surname of the lady who lives on the floor below me, but C---- being a male name. Still befuddled, I tried to explain that the B----- family were to be found on the 2nd floor (or, in Europe, first floor) and that I lived on the 3rd floor (europe: second floor). I allowed her access to the building and gestured in the general direction of the B----- front door and slunk off to bed.
I couldn't get back to sleep for about an hour, since my brain had woken up sufficiently to wonder if letting her in was the appropriate etiquette, but not being inclined to do anything about it, I merely ensured that all my doors were double locked, and lay in bed.
Then today the buzzer went again. This time it was 8am, at which time I would usually just be rising, but abnormally for me I was up and about, and just finishing my breakfast cuppa. Wondering who it could be this time (probably the meter reader), I went down again, and found someone peering through the glass of the front door. Opening the door, I was a little taken aback to see a uniformed police officer. Was it the feds, finally infuriated by my snide comments on the political administration come to fit me up for the orange pajamas? Actually no, he was looking for C----- B----.
Once again, I indicated that I was unable to provide this individual, but he might try his luck on the second floor (EU: 1st). I felt less guilt about showing him the way to their front door before again retreating to my abode to finish eating my morning jam sandwich. Still, this leads to more questions: who is C----- B-----, and why is everyone looking for him? Were the two visits connected? Why does everyone insist on ringing my doorbell when they actually want someone on another floor?
I don't know, but I'm wondering if this will force me to finally get around to repairing the buzzer. Maybe this won't solve the problem of unwanted people ringing me at all hours of the day or night. Unless I electrify the buzzer. Maybe I'll try that. The only reason I need a buzzer is for when UPS delivers my latest Amazon shipment, I don't particularly want to hear from anyone else. If I could only arrange for them to leave the packages on the doorstep, maybe I should just cut the wire entirely...