I know everybody loves a good mystery and an intriguing detective tale that follows the brave heroes until the mystery is solved and the culprits are served their heaping helping of justice.
How else do you explain that 94.6% of all shows on television have titles that consist of only an incomprehensible set of letters and begin with ominous percussion beats? It turns out, there is something even better than watching it on TV — finding a real life mystery and solving it yourself.
I do not want to propagate any theories about bored housewives or meddlesome neighbors, so do not misunderstand — the housewives (myself included) featured in this account are not of the bored or meddlesome variety, we are clearly the heroines. We should probably be given cash rewards, or at least honorary Spring Hill PD officer status. We would actually settle for afternoon reprieves from our needy children.
“What,” you ask “could be such a mystery in the peaceful suburban idyll of Williamson County?”
I’m glad you asked. It all started innocently enough when a single female neighbor asked us, her four surrounding neighbors, if we’d noticed anyone knocking at her door lately. The group text thread escalated quickly and within minutes we determined the following: general description of the persons knocking on the neighbor’s door; color, make and model of door knocker’s vehicle; frequency of visits; time of visits; door knocker does not visit any other homes in the immediate vicinity.
When we passed this information on to the concerned victim of the door knocking, she couldn’t think of anyone who might be that interested in speaking with her. We didn’t ask her whether she was in the witness protection program, but we did rule it out pretty quickly amongst ourselves. Those of us with more vivid imaginations might have envisioned said neighbor being the only child of a recently deceased oil magnate, hiding out from her 20-year-old stepmother’s efforts to obtain all of her late husband’s wealth.
We knew we had to dial in the investigation and get a closer look. The door knockers usually arrive right around the time our kids get off of the bus, so two of us wandered out a little early to “wait for the kids.” The moment the culprit’s car pulled up, our two heroes gave each other the signal from across the street. Mom 1 walked the long way around to the bus stop to get a picture of door knocker’s license plate while Mom 2 distracted the door knockers with a very advanced information-gathering tactic. “Who are you?” she asked.
The door knockers were happy to share that they worked for AT&T. Mom 2 remembered a recent visit to her house by AT&T representatives that ended in her yelling that she was not interested in changing her phone or internet service, and that she needed to help her daughters finish their homework NOW.
Door knockers did not produce business cards or brochures peddling their wares, and the only evidence that they had was that one of them was wearing a polo shirt with a tiny AT&T logo. The suspects left when their target did not materialize to answer the door, but they returned the next day at exactly the same time.
We four detectives consulted again while all 11 of our children chased each other through the neighborhood with water guns and light sabers. One mom consulted a local neighborhood social network, and was told that while solicitation in neighborhoods is illegal, that rule is rarely enforced. We decided AT&T is running a very inefficient operation by only soliciting one person per day for days on end, and that is the reason our cell phone bills are so high. (This is our next project as a band of unlikely superheroes.)
I think this is the part of NCISVU where you would expect to solve the mystery and capture the culprits. Sorry. Not gonna happen with this story. But never fear, the four superhero moms are still on the case, standing by eagerly to send a group text of justice.
Overheard at the Salon: “I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I really want to know — does this haircut make my butt look big?”
Julie Holt is a wife, mother of three, writer and suffers from chronic road rage. She loves to keep it real, but she is not lit or woke. Actually, she’s pretty basic. Her hobbies include naps, pizza and writing about herself in the third person. You can read Julie’s blog at jholtwriting.com or follow her on Facebook @julieslighterside.