Yeah so I'm sucking with the posting lately, I know. But I've been blessedly busy this past week what with yarn whoring (I need a skank of yarn!) and now two secret projects in the horizon.
So I just have a flashback for you:
Flashback #5
I've mentioned before that I grew up in a basement. Technically, I grew up in a succession of basements until we moved to a proper house in 1992 (age 12 for those keeping track). A majority of those years were spent in the basement of a large two story house, two blocks away from the ocean. We lived behind the garage, in what I estimate came out to be about 500 square feet: a large bedroom, smaller living room, smallest kitchen. I slept in my parent's room for a while but my bed got eventually moved to the living room around age 9.
I think I had a pretty happy childhood. I didn't think it was weird I lived in a garage, except I instinctively knew not to invite friends over. We had a relatively large backyard, I could ride my scooter to the beach whenever I wanted, and even had my own piano (I have NO idea how my parent's swung that. They're amazing.) The place was even designed so that every room had a window so it's not as dark and cheerless as you may imagine.
But the rats. We had a bit of a rat problem and they lived above us between our ceiling and under the floor of the 2nd (main) floor. Almost every night we were woken by the sound of scratching and fighting. It makes me shudder just thinking about the sound. My biggest fear was that they would eventually scratch through and land on my bed. My dad would pound the handle end of a broomstick against the ceiling to scare them silent. Sometimes it worked.
One time one somehow got in our kitchen. I remember my mom and my aunt screaming obsenities and chasing after it with that same broom. Well, that's what I imagine what was happening. I was in the living room behind a firmly closed door, giggling with my cousins.
But like I said, I had a happy childhood. I think it's made me have a higher tolerance for less than ideal living situations. Likewise, I think I'm more appreciative than most are of homes that have no risk of the bubonic plague.