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 Come answer a question, share a laugh, encourage one another, and bring me a coffee! |
I had one friend whose house was a model of perfect order and cleanliness. His mother was one of those people who seem to be able to keep everything exactly as it was supposed to be without any effort at all. And the result was a house that you were afraid to move in, for fear of dislodging something or spoiling it. We were allowed in but used to avoid it thanks to that fear. Then I had a another friend whose house was a chaotic mess of far too many things all competing for the limited space available. It was a house we kids were more comfortable in but, if one had any sense of order, would drive one to insanity eventually. My own house was somewhere in between these extremes, as were the rest of my friends' places. So you could say that what my house lacked was the pure and sacred order of the possible and the complete chaos that was the alternative. If there is such a thing as a happy medium (and most of them seem to take themselves altogether too seriously), that was my house. Oh, and we didn't have a television until very late - my father was against such needless extravagance. |
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