the basement - duhn duhn duhn

Reading the comments from my last blog post it becomes apparent that I wasn't the only one with basement issues!

My house now houses the first and only basement that hasn't been overly creepy.

My first house (from ages 0 - 10) was in a big old rambling house that boasted a "full basement" that was neither finished nor finishable. It had these creaky old suspended stairs that were so close to the beams you had to duck as you walked down them (I only know this because I moved back there when I was 15). The basement itself was pretty much a concrete hole underneath the house. Remember basement walls that didn't reach the ceiling and you could see earth above them? It was nice. Remember spiders? And spiderwebs? I really really really hated spiderwebs and to this day I abhor spiders. I didn't go down there unless I had to.

When we moved to the farm (age 10-15) the basement was a little better. It wasn't half so dungeonish. It had a couple of little closet-like "rooms" here and there. One was off the laundry/freezer/furnace room. There is nothing scarier than getting something out of the freezer, in the creepy, spider basement, by yourself and having the door open a crack so you can see all the shadows of boxes and storage stuff. Out of the corner of your eye you can always see something "move." One time as I was leaving the basement I pulled the basement door shut (at the bottom of the stairs) and as I reached the top of the stairs the doorknob turned by itself. As an adult I now realise that it was a rusty old doorknob that had probably stuck and managed to spring free as I left it behind. As a kid, it was freakin scary. Not to mention that the ledge that ran along the stairs often had mouse poop up and down it. When I got a little older (read: hit puberty, needed a bra, pads, etc. and couldn't very well share with the bro any longer) my dad built me a room down there. I remember reading a book one night and seeing a mouse run through my room. Did I also mention that the basement got a lot of water in it in the spring, and that I was lucky that my room was slightly higher, and that the room I had to go through to get to my room was VERY low so that there were inches of water in it, forcing me to lay the weights from an old weight set like stepping stones across it? When the water was really bad my carpet was generally good and wet too. So much for leaving clothes on the floor or putting my socks on in the morning before leaving the room.

Although I didn't have dreams about doctors burying their patients in my room (check Lori's comment), I did have anxiety that in the event of a fire I'd have to force myself to try and pry my window open and crawl out through the many many cobwebs in it.

Every morning an old muskovey duck woke me up by pecking the bugs off my window. I used to yell at him to go away, but he was old and ornery, and definitely out to get me.

I used to hide my diary in the rafters of my unfinished ceiling (also good refuge for spiders, lucky me), so at least there were some perks right? And at least it didn't get wet. I remember heading off to bed one night only to find that water was dripping on it. My bedframe was precariously hanging on for dear life, and I knew there was no way to move it, and there was no way I was going to put my bed on the floor for easy access to spiders, so I just slept on the dry side and tried not to get dripped on.

Geez Louise, this sounds really bad! Don't tell my mom I put this all on here!