You know. The kind of Bad Aminal that glues little kids into their beds and won’t let them get up and get dressed even when their moom and big sis are waiting for them so they can go do something fun. Er, shopping, roight.

I got a lot done in my chaotically cluttered basement today (not that anyone could tell) and I wasn’t one bit a-skeered, despite the presence of the Bad Aminal (which I found in a pile of terribly important papers, 98% of which I threw out). As horrifying as my basement is, it is not as bad as the Michigan Basement that was in the old house I grew up in on Superior Street up dere in Yooperland. That place featured an unfinished basement with an old octopus of an oil furnace with arms reaching everywhere and a cracked (?) cement floor and a washer and dryer and some shelves with tools and other junk on them. And a room over in one corner around the other side of the furnace that was always a little scary without an adult, although I can’t remember that there was ever much of anything in that room. Somehow now, that room makes me think of that movie The Blair Witch Project. Which I don’t like to watch because it’s too scary for an old bag like me.

My cat Twinkle had her first litter of kittens in that basement. There were four. A stillborn “monster” that my parents disposed of before us kids got up that morning. A sweet little calico kitten that died soon after birth. And two healthy ones, grey striped and black with a white spot? What did I name those kittens? I fergit. I was thinking Spot and Puff but aren’t those the aminals in the old Dick and Jane readers? I got to actually watch Twinkle have her second litter of kittens but that’s a whole ‘nother story, I think.

My basement isn’t as scary, at least not to me, others may have differing opinions. I mean, I am a-skeered of all the junk in my basement, one thing that we did NOT have in that old Michigan basement all those years ago, at least not the tonnage that I’m keeping in mine. Oh, occasionally if I’m home alone at night my always overactive imagination gets into overdrive and I get a little skittish. And I was terrified to go down there the day Comcast sent the serial killer out to replace our aging cable modem but that’s also a whole ‘nother story.

Maybe basements are scariest to little kids? And certain ultra-perceptive dog-type beasties? Once about a billion years ago, our usually brave little Mouse was about 10 and she was home alone for about an hour. I was picking up Lizard Breath from a friend’s house on the other side of town and the GG was at a technology meeting at the elementary school behind our woods. When I got home, I found Mouse standing at the top of the basement stairs with Froggy. They were debating about whether they should go down there or not. I forget what it was that she wanted from the basement but I was glad they didn’t talk themselves into it because there were UNWRAPPED BIRTHDAY PRESENTS down there!!!

Oh, by the way, that loverly scene in the pic today is a stretch of sidewalk on the way to school. Elementary school, that is. That puddle forms at just about any teensy little drop or two of rain (or melting snow or whatever) and it is an absolutely loverly puddle for a 2-year-old to splash joyously through as she and her moom walk her sister to kindergarten. It was much less fun for me to pick my way through in my Chaco sandals this afternoon.

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