Curb Appeal. Curd Appeal. Curve Appeal.

Don’t judge a book by its cover.

I think I smell cheese, or mold.

They kinda are the same thing.

One eventually turns into another……🐭🧀🐹🧀🐭🧀

The quiet ones.

The cute ones.

The quiet and cute little ones.

They are the ones to watch.

The drive by’s and the agents are salivating, foaming at the mouth even.

There is a whole lotta lurking going on……..

The walls may have ears.

Or it may really be the rodents up there having a field day…..on your heirlooms and antiques..the rust and dust just too darn inviting. Having the party of all parties on you, and your casa.

Woo Hoo!!

They failed to invite you, or maybe yours got lost in the mail.

It didn’t matter, they and the festivities went on without you.

And the story has yet to be verified, validated, vindicated.

Vindicate this.☺️

Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others.

Oh well.

All may look inviting on the outside, get ya in the door…

The house starts creeping. …..the floors are creeking…..like bad knees.

Who “likes” to get the snot scared out of them?

Not me.

In the high rent district, the low rent district, middle district.

Any district.

Challenging conventional authority takes time. (ct)

Takes your time.

Takes my time.

Believe you me, it is never a waste of time.

Goodness, in the end, always wins.

Always.

Wins.

Lawyer up?

Power up?

Power down?

Depends on the walk through. If the murmurs and whispers are smirking quietly, using their inside voices, just for

you.

Something is lurking, beyond the whispers though.

Suddenly, or maybe not so suddenly the loud voices and stories surface. Shouting almost. Very loudly. Indirectly. Directlty in your direction.(ct) For effect.

Scarey stuff.

How things can turn on a dime.

Your dime?

My dime?

Exactly. Who knows….the ghosts and goblins are always “there”. Or “here”.But they are somewhere. In the creeky floors and the wall eared walls. They listen…….

Time will tell.

It usually does.

Vacuuming may help.

Separate the dust from the dingey.

Just don’t suck up, a rodent in the process.

And leave the remains behind.

For me to clean up.

In case you did not know, or may not want to think about, even though today, the front of the beautiful storied dream home—- all seems bright, shiny, new, and inviting in all actuality…..

mi casa may become su casa!

And.

Perfume on a pig is still perfume on a pig.

And no fair switching the TP roll while no one is looking.

Horrible.

All those remnants and reminders under the roof. Partying hard. In the nooks.In the crannies.In the nooks and crannies. The dream house morphs into the nightmare house in a nanosecond. The house of bad dreams. Nightmares.

And. it ain’t the dogs fault.

Cats chase mice and mice are lickety split speedy. Lightning speedy. Quiet too.Searching for your cheese to enjoy.

Dogs guard the casa.

They appreciate the effort, appreciate the furniture😉…the warm and cozy fireplace, the warm and cozy free rein of their domain. For you and your protection. they stand guard.

And. They like cheese too.

No wonder we call upon them to guard our space and place. Our spaces and places. Their hearing so acute, they step up and hop to it from 0 to 90 in seconds. they do not bother themselves with the actual maths…….

All bark and no bite?

No.

Loyal.

Strong.

True.

When the screaming walls begin to close in. Catastropically squeezing out reason and any ounce of rationality in heated moments of ghosts and goblins coming to rear their ugliness and goblin-ness back to life. All at a moments notice.

In the midst and mist of a normal, regular day, the sounds increasingly become nuanced, creepy and shouting. Loud.

From a far away distance the screams began. Louder and louder as the walls closed in. The only escape was of closing the eyes and ears. To block the sounds of terror out.

In one moment, innocence and safety turned, on a dime. And the ghouls and goblins came out to

play.

with your head.

At the same time the white picket fence seemed to uproot itself from the ground and fly off into oblivion. All watched and seen while peeking through frightened eyes and attempted muffled madness.

Slamming doors and sounds of rushing down the hall.

Trapped.

Like a rat.

With no way out.

And if and when the opportunity presented itself a race down the hall and out of the house so quick and fast whose head was spinning was never considered. Escape was the only option. Returning the scariest of options.

Because when the haunted house came to life, the life of the inhabitants were denied a moment of their own. As if their own breathing had stopped. Suffocation Trying desperately to forget the screams and cries the same moment as trying to escape.

The ultimate in multi tasking.

The ultimate in bargaining.

To get away.

From it.

The rats and rodents up in the attic chewing the wood downward to meet up with the underground cats chasing the mice round and round.

Terrifying a reaction of crazed reaction.

And the thought of a having to return after escape—-insanity.

How could a dwelling meant to protect so turn into self-protection of not dwelling? On what went on the the house so haunted. When on a “normal” day, walking out the front door meant putting on the invisible mask of happiness, walking head up through the picket fence. A day of pretend on the horizon.

How do we do it? How did we do it?

How were the promises of youth so gobbled up in one giant swallow? Who was so hungry for the soul, the souls? All souls?

The soul less. The monster. Who learned from another monster.

Curb appeal. It looked good on the outside.

Curd appeal. It tasted good on the inside.

Curve appeal. It really was only deceiving ly welcoming.

Thinking back. Was there a percentage? Of the good times. Of the bad times?

Coming to terms with the way we were raised is some of the most important work we do.

But.

Does it have to take a lifetime? A whole lifetime? End of the year time, brings a realization. Before the celebrations, the holiday season gets underway with the newest crop of little ghosts and goblins parading around and knock, knock, knocking on the front doors. In your neighborhood. In search of tricks and treats.

Be careful what you wish for.

Minds may wander back to the past.

Shaking our head like a dog shakes itself.

To ward off the bugging nightmares.

Was it real.

The scars have re-shapen the narrative.

In truth. In reality.

It does not change the story though.