I could have a snake?

So it's 12:42 last night and I've just finished a manic bout of housecleaning while trying to decide whether I'm going to move to northern California or Madison, Wisconsin. I make a cup of tea and turn off the motivational Le Tigre I've been playing at a reasonable volume, and as I settle into my armchair with a book, I become aware that rap music with the bass turned all the way up is blaring from the apartment beneath me at an incredible volume, considering the hour. I stand up, stomp on the floor a few times, and sit down again. The music immediately becomes much quieter. Score.

Three minutes later, there's a knock on the door. Susie springs into action, threatening to dismember the person on the other side. I sigh, not really wanting a confrontation at this hour, even one in which I am clearly in the right. I throw on a bathrobe and open the door. A guy in his twenties, who I assume lives in the apartment below me, is cowering around a corner, clearly terrified of Susie. I give him my biggest, phoniest smile.

Me: Hi there.

Him: I just wanted to apologize.

Me: Oh, hey, no problem at all. Thanks for turning it down.

Him: Yeah, you know, I respect a little foot-stomping way more than I respect...(He makes the universal telephone gesture. I guess I look confused.)...calling the police, you know?

Me: Oh, yeah, totally.

Him: So, it's nice to meet you. What's your name?

Me: Daisy. You?

Him: Marcus. Nice to meet you.

Me: You too. I begin to employ conversation-closing body language, such as putting my hand on the doorknob.

Him: So, you just chillin up here or what?

Me: I'm reading a book.

Him: A book?

Me: ....Yes.

Him: What's the name of it?

Me: It's called 26a. It's about these twins that live in England.

Him, in apparent delight: Check YOU out!

Me: Yeah, I'm a librarian. I read a lot.

Him: Well, Daisy, you mind if I come upstairs some time and read with you?

Me: ....I, you know, I...usually read alone.

Him: I see. It just ain't that kind of party.

Me: ....Yeah, I guess not.

Him: Well, you have a good night.

Me: You too. (I close and lock the door.)

This is not the first time I have been hit on in my own home by a stranger standing outside of it. Two blogs ago, I reported the tale of the man that stood in his backyard yelling propositions through my kitchen window. Now, either this sort of thing happens to people all the time, or I am a particularly gorgeous individual -- which we should not rule out -- but last night I was wearing a bathrobe, and not a sexy one, either. A big giant bright-red bulky terrycloth one. And my hair was scraped back off my head with an Alice band, revealing my freshly-scrubbed, makeup-free face. I'm just saying.