So I was lying on a first-floor cot at 4:50 am this morning, and floating on the surface of the pond — i.e., slightly more awake than asleep. It’s pitch black out, and suddenly I heard a light rapping on the main door, which faces the kitchen. Did I just hear what I might have just heard? Again: rap-rap-rap-rap. Not knocking, mind, but polite tapping. “No fucking way,” I told myself. “It’s not even 5 am and somebody wants to discuss something?” I decided that even if a couple of FBI agents with warrants were outside, I wasn’t answering the door or even making a sound. If it’s a thief or a druggie, I’ll wait until they break in to leap up and grab a golf club and defend the castle.
But they didn’t break in, and the rapping stopped after three tries. Very weird experience.