Mr. Cellophane

Dependency has always been an alien concept for me. I don't like asking for help, I don't like people knowing I need help, and I really hate having to ask over and over for favors.

If something breaks in my house and o can't fix it, it stays broken and I learn to live around it. I'm very resourceful working around broken water pipes, dark hallways , fired electrical sockets, irascible doorknobs, parallelogram doors hung on rectangular door jambs. One door fell off makeshift hinges and pins. A lack of adequate light just underlies my belief that the house wasn't that dirty.
I haven't even begun to talk about the fact their are no closets or counters. That was a challenge that living on a sailboat gave me much insight. Using every possible inch to stow your gear. But yachters didn't have to deal with both children moving in with me when they were suppose to live with their father. He had four bedrooms, I had two. My son slept on the sofa and had a dresser in the dining room.

Did I mention i have one bathroom in the basement but it has no sink? Then when my Mom died brought about a sixth of her house out to join me. Inherited packratism was not a help. For the past two year a great deal of my belongings have lived in a POD somewhere in Cockeysville. Okay, I admit , Los of it are boxes of books.

So whats going on? Sheer stubborn pioneer spirit, serious alienation issues? The walls were part remuddle fake paneling, the others were pea green horsehair plaster falling off in chunks to expose weathered wooden lathe. Peeling paint, antique light sockets, hanging lights having precariously by a Chunk of wood.

Embarrassment kept people out, and the more I shut out the more I shut off. Transparency was always a fearful wolf at the door. So how did I come to buy a 170 year old house? Well other than the fact it was cheap cheap cheap in a real nice neighborhood, it had a yard that was sheer paradise. Heirlo lilacs, azaleas of every color, rhodedendrums, columbine, violets, snowdrops, iris, every plant imaginable.

But now it's time to be transparent. Swing the doors open and let everyone know how disturbed I truly am. Then push on and start turning things around. I've seen better days and I ain't putting up with these. Plus I have that adorable little granddaughter that I hope someday will be able to come here and think my grandmas got grit to turn a low down house into a playlist for everyone.