The Craigslist man

Since my second trimester is all but over I've started to feel that panic that comes with being unprepared.  We procured a new bed for Andrea so her crib could be used for the new baby, but we still have no mattress.  We don't have a dresser, or crib sheets, or clothes except for a small box of hand-me-downs.  Yesterday I spent a little time on Craigslist looking for baby things, and I stumbled upon a changing table/dresser that looked perfect for my purposes.  I texted the seller, and we planned to meet today to execute the transaction.  Because I drive a small Ford Escort, I asked my mom if I could borrow her van for the transportation of my latest acquisition.  She agreed, and this morning I packed up Andrea and headed up to Midvale for the dresser.

Unfortunately for me, I had written down the wrong house number.  I discovered this as I rang the doorbell to a house down the street from my intended location.  A medium-built older man answered the door.  He wore a white tank top which showed off his tan skin and the white hairs on his chest.  But his most distinctive feature was his facial hair which looked VERY similar to this:

Odd, I thought to myself.  This doesn't seem like the kind of person who would be selling a changing table. . . but I brushed away the thought and introduced myself.  "Hi!" I said cheerfully.  "I'm here in response to your ad."  The man looked at me for a moment and then glanced at the white minivan I had pulled up in.

"Which ad are you referring to?"  He purred as he leaned in and gave me a rather bone-chilling smile.  At this point, I was pretty sure this was NOT the kind of man who sells changing tables on Craigslist.  In fact, I began wondering what he did sell. . . or perhaps what he wanted.  Was he a drug dealer or some lonely man looking for womanly favors?  Either way, my mind started racing and then shut down completely.

"I'm here for the, you know, um, the. . ." I started waving my hands in the air to indicate rectangles and overall confusion. "You know, for clothes and changing and. . ." I waved my hands again as I noticed him leaning closer with that seriously creepy smile on his face.  "For babies!"  I finally blurted out, which is when his unpleasant smile turned to a frown and somehow cleared the haze in my head enough for the name of the item in question to come through.  "I'm here for the changing dresser.  Is this the right place?"

He leaned a little further out the door and looked toward his neighbors on either side.  "No, I sure don't have one of those for ya.  You might try next door."  With that, I thanked him and waved goodbye as I ran to the (thankfully) locked van where my toddler sat asking if we could have more adventures.  Hopefully not more like these, I thought.  As I pulled out of the creepy man's driveway, I called the number from the ad again and was directed down the street where I found a young couple with a baby who sat waiting by their front door with my changing dresser.

After the dresser was hefted into the back of the van and I was cruising down the freeway toward home, I began to wonder who was more uncomfortable by the situation with the first wrong house.  Was it me, who stumbled onto a man already waiting for an answer to his questionable ad?  Or was it the man with. . . expectations. . . who found a short, pregnant woman with a minivan at his doorstep inquiring about his offer?  I guess I'll never know, but I'm suddenly glad I don't live in Midvale.