One day, I walked into a stranger's house. This is from my personal experience. I had this teacher, who was not my homeroom teacher, and she used to live down my block. I would go down there to play with her sons. She had two of them, mind you. One day, I had nothing else to do, and I was very bored. I asked my dad if I could go down there, and he said I could. I walked down there, and saw their house, which I thought was their house. The door looked like a different color. Mind you, they had a bright colored door, one of the primary colors. That door looked beige. I thought they painted it, but turns out they didn't. I usually knock on the door, but I just walked in, because I was used to them by then, and they were used to me. I walk in, and see someone on the couch. He turns to face me. He's in his teenage years, and I apologize so fast. I'm still guilty to this day. Turns out, their house was the one at the end of the very block.