I told a friend recently that we rarely answer our front door. She was incredulous and said that she always opened her door because she felt like she had to when someone knocked and she couldn't understand how we could not answer our door.

Easy. Because we don't have to. It's my house, my door. I'll open when I see fit.

A salesman came to the door last week and after he rang the doorbell three times, I finally answered the door in a moment of weakness and anger.

Before he could say anything, I said "Why the hell are you ringing my doorbell over and over?"

He answered, not the least bit sorry "Well, you didn’t answer the first time."

"I was on the phone."

"Well, now that you're not, would you be interested in…"

I don't know what I might've been interested in because I uttered a two word profane response and shut the door.

Now, my daughter loves it when the doorbell rings. The dogs bark and she sprints from wherever she is in the house to the front door, curious as to who might be ringing the doorbell, carrying with her an excitement she reserves mostly for Santa and Grandma.

So she is usually pretty disappointed when I don't open it.

"Aren't you gonna open it?" she asks.

"Shhhh," I say, finger to lips. "I don't want them to know we're home."

"Why not?"

"Shhhh."

"It could be one of my friends."

"I promise, it's not one of your friends."

"But it COULD be."

"Maybe in eleven years when your friends have cars and drivers' licenses and might show up announced, maybe THEN it could be them. But right now, it's not."

She twists up her mouth and stomps away, certain that we've missed a great opportunity to see who is behind Door Number One.

As a kid, my family always answered the door, probably because it was rarely closed. If there was a knock on the screen door it was usually either the paperboy collecting for that month's delivery, a neighbor in need of something or a friend coming over to play. We knew who was there and the knocks came at appropriate times.

I'm not exactly sure when that all changed, but somewhere since I became responsible enough to own my own home, it did. Rarely is it friends or someone I'm happy to see knocking at my door. Instead, I've got obnoxious teenagers selling me overpriced magazines, someone trying to sell me an absolutely fabulous cleaning solution, someone looking to bring me into their church (after I make a donation) or a guy offering to be my financial advisor. (Because there is no one I'd rather entrust my money to than some guy that wandered up to my door. During dinner.)

I know everyone has to make a living and to those that feel that the best way to do that is through door to door sales, more power to you. But let me offer you a few tips:

1. Don't knock after 6pm. I'm either eating dinner or playing with my daughter or watching television. Interrupting any of those three is seriously going to irritate me.

2. Trying to force whatever you're selling into my hands as a sales tactic is rude. If I take it, the only reason is because you've pissed me off so badly that I'm going to purposefully drop it on the ground between us, in hopes that it will either break or blow away.

3. I heard you ring the bell the first time. Then I heard you ring it again. Then I heard you knock loudly. Twice. If you are dumb enough to stick around long enough for me to answer the door at this point, it's only going to be because I want to fight you.

4. Seriously. Just don't knock on my door, okay?

And to be clear – I have no problem with neighborhood kids coming to the door to either find my daughter or to fund raise for their school/team/whatever. Those knocks usually come on the weekends and not, say, as we're getting ready for bed. I welcome those knocks.

But as for the others, the ones that invade my privacy and treat me like a wallet with hands and feet?

That door is not opening any time soon.