The guy knocking on my front door in the middle of a weekday doesn’t seem like a Jehovah. Or Seventh Day Adventist. And it’s too early in the season for the disadvantaged teenagers hawking out-of-print magazines in 1000 degree heat or college kids indentured to knife companies or solar energy schemes. That’s probably why I answer the door. Maybe he needs help. Lost a dog. Or is a long-lost boyfriend and found me on Facebook. I