How do we get things done when the door bell keeps ringing.

September 1965
2611 D Street, in the rear.
The tiny house in the rear. It was either a guest house or a servants quarters. A standalone bungalow set behind a larger old Victorian house with three rented flats and a broad porch as wide as the big house. Or the house in the front as they called it.
From D Street you could access the tiny rear house via a walk way coming off the D street’s sidewalk passing to the west of the big house. We were told to park our Plymouth Barracuda in the back behind the tiny rear house and accessed by an alley and park near the big pine tree. A tree with one resident squirrel. Having lived in Los Angeles all my life up to that point, I was not accustomed to living in a city place with pine trees and squirrels. How quaint.
I guess you could call this tiny rear house a honeymoon cottage. It was the first place my new wife and I resided after our wedding. And believe me, the house was small, compact, and void of storage. It had one bedroom without closet space or shelves. But the bathroom was inside the single bedroom as if it was added in after the cottage was built years ago. The bathtub stood up on legs with a big shower head like a sunflower. I don’t recall if it had a shower curtain around the edge of the tub. It must have or there would have been puddles of water on the floor. And it had the require toilet and wash basin as well. Also, quaint.
The living room and kitchen was in one main room. Something like 8×10 feet. However, it did have a laundry and storage room off the kitchen. And, that’s it. Tiny, functional, and quaint. A smallish house probably about 500-square feet. But as far as we were concerned as long as there was a bed, we were happy.
When we were engaged in Honeymooning, someone would often come to our front door and ring the bell. I remember a smiling Japanese couple ringing the door bell and wanted to tell us about Buddhism. I must admit their smiles were infectious. But I turned them away with the excuse of being Christian. So, they left thanking me.
At another time when practicing our marriage, two very serious looking police detectives in business suits came to the front door and rang. They introduced themselves and showed me their ID’s and badges and started asking do we know who lives in the front house? I had no clue who lived in the front. Never saw anyone coming or going. Disappointed, the two officers left.
Then another time or two when we were engaged in romancing a bunch of teen kids from our church came to visit. This time we had to let them in. It was obvious to them what was going on before they came in the house. They could see it on our faces. So, we talked a while and they eventually left.
Then again, a few weeks later when we were frolicking, the teen kids came once again. Not really sure what they came for but we let them in again and we talked a while. Mostly about nothing. But then this time they knew exactly what we were up to. None the less, they snickered a bit and eventually left with silly grins on their faces.
So, if it weren’t unexpected guests, it was the guy down the walkway in the apartment to our west practicing on his drums with the window opened. He was pretty good at drumming but most annoying. At that juncture, we decided to postpone engagements to later after the late news. Such was newly wedism and its various practices. And to all, a goodnight. Fade to black.