Blacker than the ace of spades

Well, that wouldda been this morning. With rain. Walking was okay but it wasn’t raining very hard yet. By the time I needed to leave to meet MMCB for coffee it was raining HARD! Of course I had an “accident” doing the Breaking My Neck Getting Out the Door dance. My car key ring snagged the storm door handle. You know. When you are going about a bazillion miles an hour and your purse (or car key ring) snags on something and YANKS YOU BACK! Yes. In my scramble to disengage my key ring, I hit the PANIC button. HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! I FINALLY got that turned off. Good thing the neighbors were up and about because our driveway is about two feet from their bedroom window. And they have a BABY who I can only guess sleeps either in their room or the OTHER bedroom two feet from our driveway. But Jeebus. Oh, and there is currently a Noise Maker attached to our storm door so that was also screaming.

Anyway, Mr. Golden Sun does not rise until, hmmm, it was 8:05 this morning, and we were under heavy cloud cover so it was still pitch black by the time I got to Barry’s Mr. Golden Sun wasn’t rising [Youtube link that comes with an ad].

When I was a kid in Sault Ste. Siberia, whenever we would go “down bote”, i.e., drive down to the Soo Locks to look at whatever ships were coming through, us kids insisted we end our drive by going by The Oldest House In Town. Now, this house was not actually the oldest house in town. The oldest house in town was (I think but don’t grade me on this) the John Johnston House, which was built in 1794 according to WikiP.

The John Johnston was then and now a historically preserved tourist attraction. One of those places you can walk through and marvel at how people lived back in those days. Of course we lived not all that differently than that during our summers out at the moomincabin when we were kids. Except we had lucky-shucky and running water (cold, out of a garden hose). But we used an outhouse and heated with wood, etc.

*Our* Oldest House In Town was a long abandoned Victorian structure complete with a turret. It was situated in an overgrown yard. Spooky as all getout except that we were in the safety of our parents’ vee-hickle. But The Comm always used to say, dramatically, that it was Blacker then the Ace of Spades.

I don’t think our oldest house in town is there any more and I’m pretty sure nothing new has been built in its place. In another city maybe somebody might have tried to restore that old house but the yooperland is not a particularly wealthy area in general. I think a lot of yoopers who do have Big Bucks (and there are some) are more likely to buy property where they can build fancy new McMansions with a river view. Sigh.

One Response to “Blacker than the ace of spades”

  1. Margaret Says:

    I have a TOO long strap on my purse, and seem to snag on everything. But yesterday I tangled with my uncooperative garage door opener. Ugh. I am NO mechanic. I usually get up in the light, which is nice. Do you fall back this weekend? I thought we had rid ourselves of that time change, but apparently NOT.