Okay, to follow up on yesterday, J calls at around 9 pm and want me to pick her up in an east Kent suburb, the kind where you get lost in cul de sac hell, and yet, some marsh still survives somewhere, 'cause you can hear the frog still.
Finally find the house,and knock at the door. Knock again. And a sweet young girl, obv. the b-day girl whose party J tagged along on, opens it, and calls for J. Jennifer realizes that her backpack is still in the back of someone's car, so girl disappears to get the keys.
I notice the house is spotless, and two large pictures of Jesus are staring at me from the living room and foyer. No parent has emerged yet to see who is at the front door or to see I'm not herding all the girls into a van at gunpoint.
I do hear the father (I assume) snap at sweet young girl to "close the door!" to the upstairs bedroom, which she quickly does, and gets J's back pack.
J thanks her; I thank her. Still no parental units make themselves known.
Very odd. But this isn't the first time this has happened.
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