Last night after 8:30 our doorbell rings. Big dog, little dog start going bonkers, kids had just laid down so they jump up curious. My husband and I go to the door and it was strange.
"Rockey Nevarez?" some dude says. We were like, "What?"
At that moment on our front porch stood a real live repo-man and he was there to repossess a 2007 white Volvo S60 from a Rockey Nevarez who hadn't made his car payment in more than five months.
What's really strange is that we totally know him. He happens to be the sleazy ex-husband of one of our dear friends and "Mike" (the re-po man) showed us his document which included an apparent narrative direct from Rockey explaining that our address was his address. Um. OK.
Nope, Rockey's never lived here man. Move along...
Cue that word again. CRAZY.
And to Rockey Nevarez, where ever your lame ass is: you may wanna take care of your $hit, you a$$hole loser!
I feel that way because Mike explained to us that it's his (and other repo expert's) usual practice to ring doorbells at 3am. He only rang our bell early because he was legitimately in our neighborhood on a paid call and figured he'd give it a rare pre-bedtime try.
Lucky for us.
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