Basement Phobia

So Fun!

It was the place where yellowed stuffing spilled from tattered couches and humming heaters sang mournful duets with spinning dryers. I'm referring to that musty, spider-infested basement. That place I crept into only when forced to retrieve Mystery Date. All that bravery just to end up with the Dud at the door. After all, if I was going to risk my life to get that game, at least I could've found the stud muffin in the white tux.

That light bulb dangling from a cord was never enough to give me the peace of mind to be way downstairs--at least not alone. What was it about the basement that would scare the Buggy Man, Phantom of the Opera, or even the millions of famous dead people who we've ooed and awed over throughout history? Tackle the basement, suckers!

The shadows reflecting from the dull light gave me the tingling feeling that something eight-legged or the Mystery Date Dud was crawling on my forearm. While downstairs, I'd often hop into a hula hoop spin without the plastic because, I'd felt something creepy.

And the noise of the heater with the glowing orange light added to the drama. I'm with you Kevin, my Home Alone heater came to life when doing laundry too. In real life, we don't need  Hollywood scare music to add to the tension. Haunted houses on Halloween, nah, just find the basement.

Now that I'm a grown up, I live in a state so humid that the ground would swallow those dirt dwelling rooms. Not many basements in Memphis--only attics. Yikes! That's another post.

I'm leaving you with a fun link for those too young to remember Mystery Date or old enough to enjoy a nostalgic look back to the fun we used to have. Tune in Monday, and I'll tell you all about my closet.

Please click the Picket Fence. Thanks!