Sordid is a dirty word involving ignoble actions and motives; arousing moral distaste and contempt. I think I may have mentioned burning down my mom’s house in one of my recent posts. That was pretty dirty, The motive arousing moral distaste and contempt is that I procrastinate. Just like tonight. But I did have fun! 🙂 Tonight, not burning down the house. …
My friend Wyla was getting married that day, and I was in charge of sewing many of her new clothes for her trousseau. It was about a half hour before the wedding, and I carefully pressed her last dress before I ran to the car and sped to the wedding. The wedding was lovely. She loved her dresses, and we came home several hours later. At the end of the street we could see a fire engine. “That looks awfully close to our house,” Mom, Randy and I all agreed. We had to go around the block to get home.
When we got there, sure enough, it was our house, or rather the O’Bara’s house that we rented. Fortunately for us, a friend of mine – who happened to be a fireman – had come to visit. When we weren’t home he came on in, and sat down at the piano to play while he waited. He smelled smoke. He told us later it took him 5 times to get the number right when he tried calling the fire department because he was so nervous. Thanks to Gary our house remained livable. The fire was contained to my room. This song was popular then. We sang it A LOT!
Oh yes, I had left the iron plugged in. The iron was old, its cord just a little frayed. Our house – old. Wiring – old. The attic, where I lived with my sewing machine, and hundreds of discarded patterns that Mom brought home from work for me, made the perfect fireplace. Had I not been in such a hurry I would have remembered to unplug the iron. I might still be using that iron today. Who knows, I might be still making clothes from those patterns.
The ignoble part came later. Someone offered to let us stay with them while our house was being repaired. I had no problem leaving for a week or so. It was like a fun vacation. Mom and Randy stayed home. ?????When the house no longer smelled like marshamallows, I returned. I felt very helpful, so I offered to paint Mom’s living room for her. The house still was a little stinky. Paint should help – right? She approved the plan, but not the color. The walls turned out chartreuse, probably because I liked chartreuse. It was the late 60’s after all. Mom loved blue. I decided it was time to move away permanently, for a couple of years.
I really was a hot mess! Smokin’ hot!!
So I’ve told you a sordid story. What about you? Do you have a skeleton in your closet that you want to share with the world?
Marsha Ingrao - Always Write 
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