Who could be at the door? We don't know anyone.
It's the guy that used to rent this place before us. He and his wife (and their little baby) bought a house around the corner, and he just wanted to say hello. They lived here for almost a year, and in that time he figured out the quirks of this old house (landlord is in NYC), and if we need any help with anything....here's his number. And his cell phone. And his e-mail.
But wait, it gets better.
He's a strapping young pediatric cardiologist on the wing Hot Toddy will be working on.
Since when does a doctor have time to stop by just to be helpful to someone he doesn't know?
Since when does a doctor give out his number, his cell, and his e-mail?
This really throws a twist into my disdain of all doctors except Dr. Mumper in Virginia and my OB friend Kristen, and my old high school friend Tracy (whom I haven't been in touch with but still like very much). Oh...and Dr. Smith, the mercury free dentist in Lynchburg.
Now I have a new doctor I'm forced to like.
I hope this isn't catchy.