Locking the door

Carrboro being the "Paris of the Piedmont," I shouldn't have been surprised when a very quirky woman in her late 50s/early 60s in some kind of terry cloth skirt, complemented by a sports visor and prominent yellow earplugs walked right in my door (it's on the 2nd floor, mind you) and asked if there was a phone she could use to call a cab.  She asked if I could dial for her, because she didn't know how to use that kind of phone (non-rotary?), and then gave me a number from memory, saying that I might need to put in some nonsensical series of numbers before it (it was clearly a local exchange).  So I dialled the number, and then she went out into my office mate Josh's room and sat down in his office chair (make yourself at home lady) and started talking quietly to someone she addressed as "mom." She told this "mom" that she was 5-10 minutes away from home, on her bike.  I guess this was some newfangled sort of cab.


What it says to me is that I should start locking the door. This is the second time some wierdo has walked right in without knocking and asked to use the phone.