a very drunk very old man showed up at our back door late last night.
I say late, but it was … about 8? but it was black as pitch outside.
He didn’t quite get that he had the wrong house until he saw me over Craig’s shoulder (I say shoulder but really I mean the bend in his elbow. I couldn’t see over Craig’s shoulder) and he waved drunkenly and scampered off.
I was vaguely terrified because he didn’t turn on our security lights as he left, and they turn on when even a kitten crosses their path.
Craig swears that he saw him going up the side of the house, but I couldn’t see him.
Poor drunken man, either that or he was a leprechaun.