Shit..this is my damned life!

Damn...the pentacle outside my front door isn't working.
I don't mind religious folks. I do mind when you try to share a Bible verse with me, after I tell you I'm not interested, have read the Bible, grew up with 4 different versions of Christianity and went to a parochial school ("What is that?" not a good question)...when you tell me "It helps to read the Bible as an adult, you understand more"
So yes, I will tell you my personal reasons for not believing. Do you know why? There are no answers you can give me for what I went through...no verse in your little magic book that makes my bitterness magically go away, because I don't believe. It's my choice. I tried being nice. I started by stopping her and saying, "I'm sorry, my household is Pagan agnostic, we don't believe in God" very warmly not at all judgemental or hateful.

**knock, knock**
Nixon: Mommy there's someone at the door.
me: Thanks, kiddo. *grabs a hoodie, I ain't wearing a bra!*
Opens the door
(fuck me...I see Bibles!)
me: Yes?
woman A: Hello, we're out sharing the word with our neighbors, given what's going on in the world over the past couple hours. *starts opening her Bible*
me: Oh,I'm sorry, my household is Pagan agnostic, we don't believe in God
Woman A: Have you ever read the Bible?
me: *chuckles* Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, I grew up reading the Bible. I was brought up with 4 different variations of Christianity and went to a parochial school. I've read the Bible multiple times, it's of no comfort to me.
Woman A: Well, have you read it as an adult. I've found reading it when not forced brings new meanings.
me: Look, I don't believe in God. I had a bad childhood and I asked "God" for help. I was questioning the conflicting views on the religions I had and went to different pastors and was told I was being a troublemaker, instead of being taken seriously. Religion is not helpful to me.
Woman A: Well, I'm sure God wanted to help.
me: Really, well he sure works slow. Because when I was being abused and praying for it to stop, it never did. When I was asking for help from adults, I was being ignored, so excuse me if I don't believe that your magic book has the answers to make me feel better.
*stunned silence*
Woman A: I'm sorry you went through that. But you seemed to have come out okay.
(I closed the door in her face at that point. I was getting way too angry! That's not something you say to someone you don't know who has just said they were abused. She has no idea how I am!)
Woman B just stood meekly behind the first woman and tried twice to pull on woman A's sleeve and walk away. She's smart. I liked her, she also never said a word. Another reason I liked her.

I really do not begrudge Christians or their faith. But I wish this woman would have respected my faith and left. I wasn't crying in a ball asking "Why?!?" and looking for answers. If they had been a youth group trying to raise money to go to Boston to help, I would have donated a couple bucks to get them there.
I find it interesting that, during the whole interaction, Nixon never once came to the door. He stood behind it and watched my body language. Normally, he's very friendly with anyone who comes to the door, because I'm very friendly with people who come to the door. Not today.

Here's how not to answer the door at 1045pm

Don't judge me!
But, Mac may have run out to get us milkshakes at 1030pm tonight.
And I may have been upstairs watching my newest guilty pleasure show Bunheads, when I heard what i assumed was Mac's car alarm beep.
Then, I heard a light tap on the front door. Again, assuming it was Mac, I got off the bed and went to open the door. Thinking Mac had his hands full with our milkshakes.

Our staircase sits nicely right next to the door. So I was able to stand on a couple stairs, open the door a sliver and say what may have been the most awesome thing I've ever said before when opening the door in the dark.

"We don't have a peephole, are you a killer?"

Again, I was assuming it was Mac on the other side.

It wasn't.
Instead, it was some guy looking for a Trudy, or was it Shey, but obviously not me. He stumbled through the name, I was too busy laughing when I realized it was not my husband on the other side of the door, and he disappeared into the night again.

The funniest part is, when I told Mac about it, he asked me why I didn't ask if he was a sex criminal (Big Bang Theory, for those of you confused).

Is it weird that I now WANT someone to knock on the door, so I can answer it with all kinds of fucked up sayings??