Thekatebook Blog

     I can remember a time, in the early Sixties, living in a tiny house with my eight siblings, two large dogs, two severely overworked and stressed parents and one Great Grandmother who had been raised as an only child and to who this whole menagerie was a revelation. I can still picture those basement steps. You would open the basement door to the funky smell of dirty laundry, laundry soap, bleach, starch and steam. What a combo, and looking down those darkened steps you could almost perceiveat the bottom a whole different kingdom of hobbits, dwarfs or their kin that dwell somewhere underground. It was truly what you made of it, this view into another world. Could be kind of scary on the right overcast day, the very thought of it bought it all back, our Basement steps when I was a kid. If my tiny Mother had attempted to wash those deadly…

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