It’s one thing to ask for help, but knocking on someone’s door in the middle of the night is a whole other level of bold.
One freezing night, my husband and I were jolted awake by the loudest pounding on the door. Grumbling, he dragged himself out of bed to see who it was.
When he opened the door, a man stood on our porch, soaking wet and shivering. “Excuse me,” the guy said politely, “can you give me a push?”
My husband scowled. “Are you serious? It’s three in the morning! And it’s freezing out here!”
He slammed the door and stomped back to bed, still muttering.
“Who was it?” I asked sleepily.
“Some guy wanting a push,” he replied, clearly annoyed.
“Did you help him?”
“Help him? No way! It’s pitch dark and pouring rain!”
I gave him a look that could melt ice. “Do you remember when our car broke down last winter? Those kind strangers who pushed us out of that ditch? Don’t you think it’s our turn now?”
With a groan of defeat, he got dressed and stepped outside into the cold as I watched from the window.
“Hey, where are you?” he called out to the guy.
“Over here,” the voice replied.
“Where exactly?”
“On the swing set!”
The look on his face when he stormed back inside, dripping wet, was priceless.