The only time someone would venture to go apeshit on your doorbell is when you're in the shower.
It's one of the cardinal rules of being alone during weekday afternoons.
Urgency is often accompanied by impatient lunacy and if you think that pressing the doorbell a half dozen times in the span of one minute can pressurise me in taking a faster shower then you're almost accurate because it was with lightening speed that I towelled my limbs and slapped on a bathrobe.
It's the ruckus that comes with the continuous ringing of doorbell that I detest and it irks my cat no end; even though I've the most sonorous doorbell in the business but if you're going to ring it like a school bell then it will get on anyone's nerves.
Well, what now?
Lunch perhaps.
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