This one is for Lisa and Nancy:
I loved the house I grew up in and it was a sad day when we moved to London.
The house was white, with black shutters, just a bungalo, but my parents had it specially built with many a custom touch. It was a corner house with a front door, a side door and a door that went directly into the basement at the rear of the house. When you first entered the front door, immediately to the left, was this huge indoor garden my dad had built for my mother. The rich smell of earth and fresh plants hit you immediately on entering. Until that is the cat we had decided to use it as his own personal litter box and the eye watering smell of cat urine got your attention.
To the right was the living room. It had hardwood floors and a fireplace with a wonderful mantle. It made a wonderful backdrop to the fairy tales my younger sisters and I would act out for our parents. Being the oldest I always had the lead part as well as being the writer and director (*side note here. Neither Lisa or Nancy seem to remember these skits we used to put on while I vividly remember being the dying little mermaid, dramtically giving up my life for the love of the prince who didn't even remember me. See, I've always loved romance*)
The kitchen was unique too. It had one of those odd folding down tables the our mom would put for meals and then fold back down to give her more kitchen space. But the best feature in the kitchen was the large wooden three shelf lazy susan located in a corner that had it's own door in front of it. Many's the time my younger sisters and I would get that lazy susan spinning as hard and as fast as we could while the food on the shelves went whipping off into the back inside corners, never to be seen again. Sometimes we would put the cat in there and set it spinning, much gentler of course, close the door and listen to him yowl. I'm sure the inside garden was his way of getting back at us humans.
The bathroom also had a very interesting feature. It had a laundry shoot that you could drop clothes down and they would land directly in the laundry room. On occasion we would also drop the cat down the laundry shoot, after of course making sure he landed in a deep basket of towels. Another reason for him to get even.
I forgot to mention by the side door in the kitchen there was a rather large milk box that would open from the outside and again from the inside. Sometimes my younger sisters and I would put the cat in the milkbox......
At that point she made us stop writing and read our stories to the class. They didn't blame the cat.
And in a very interesting note, the house I live in now and have for 25 years is a bungaloo. It's white with black shutters. It's on the corner of a crescent.......but no lazy susan, laundry shoot, milk box or inside garden.