Lacking boundaries

Cookie asks the age-old question: What is wrong with some people?

Today, the husband was working out back behind our house.  We don't have a garage, just a shed, and the shed is located where the garage should be.  Actually, the previous owners, Merle and Pearl should have built a garage and not the shed, but that is neither here nor there.

Because the shed is where the garage should be, you can see it from the street.

At the same time, I saw a couple - older, white - get out of their ancient K-Car in front of our house.  Merle and Pearl have been gone for five years, yet their friends still come over hoping to see them.  This annoys me because if you haven't heard from someone in five years, that tells me that you aren't quite good enough friends just to drop in unannounced.

I noticed them standing and looking towards the shed, which was open because the husband was in our Back 40 doing yard work.   I got up - sensing that an intervention was needed - went downstairs and opened the door, went out of the stoop and asked if I could help them with anything.

Man: "I was just wondering what you had for sale in that shed."

Cookie: "Excuse me?"

Man: "I saw that your shed was open.  Would you mind if I looked through your shed to see if I might want to buy something."

Cookie: "No. We aren't having a sale."

Man: "I just want to look-see what you have."

Cookie: "I said we are not having a sale."

Man: "I just figured since the shed was open..."

Cookie: "Ah, allow me to introduce myself - my name is Cookie.  And who are you?"

Man: "You don't need to know that."

Cookie: "Ah, well then...."

I explained to Mister "You Don't Need to Know That" that no, he could not go on my property to my shed, and that no, he could not look through stuff because nothing was for sale, and that it would be best if he and his lovely wife moved it along, back to Essex, or Middle River, or wherever they are from.

His wife pulled on his arm and said that she thought there was another sale in the neighborhood.  And they left in their garbage filled K-Car.

Now, here's the thing: There is nothing in front of our house that says "Sale".  There are no yard sales in the neighborhood today.  The shed door is open because the husband is going in and out taking things out as he works in the back yard, and returning them when he is done.

So, I ask, "What is wrong with some people?"

In this case, it's the T.V. show, American Pickers, I guess, which has planted the seed that it's OK to nose around in other peoples stuff looking for things that are worth money, and then offering a fraction of the value so you can resell it.   Maybe too much exhaust from that fine K-Car is drifting into the passenger cabin and smoking their brains.

Still, I am eagle eye, from my office, ready to call 911 if they should return.