So many months ago I decided to Google-Map everywhere I've lived since birth. Alas, GM hasn't tackled Havre de Grace just yet so it looks like GM only knows of my humble abodes from college on.
While my memory is still intact I'm going to attempt to share some memories/thoughts of each place I've lived. Of experiences that occurred while inside that domicile.
STEVENSON LANE (Towson, MD)
Freshman year at Towson (State) University. To this day I wish I lived at least one semester on campus.
Lived with a Craig, Jim, and a Cheryl. Craig owned the house - I barely remember him. Cheryl I don't remember at all – just her face. Jim, ugh, I remember.
Lived in the (finished) basement. Wood paneling! Woo hoo!! And i'm serious.
I had spoken to family off and on about needing a typewriter for school papers. God love it, my grandparents, on their first trip down to visit me brought me one. Mind you it was a typewriter from, I think, the 1940's. Did I care? Nope. Hunters-and-peckers can't be choosy. Plus I thought it was cool when I handed in papers. Would always get a second or third look from the professor.
Hated asking family for money. And didn't even think about working. Couldn't actually – was completing all 6 crews in the theater dept in 2 semesters. Which isn't normal but I had minimal social life so I figured what the heck. Anyway, no money so I tended to ummm “borrow” food from my roommates. Some I got away with but not... the milk. Jim's milk. And he wasn't a friendly person in the first place. When confronted I'd deny that it was me. How he figured out his milk was disappearing I didn't know. That is until he told me he started marking a line on the milk container every time he was finished. Did I stop? Nope. I would just fill to the line with water what I drank of the milk. I guess my conscience got the better of me, though. While I never told Jim it was me I told my parents I really needed food money. So I got a check every 2 weeks. Being a welfare kid I was pretty good about budgeting my money so never really ate anybody else's food there again. Wait, do desserts count?
My worst experience with Jim happened 2nd semester. I was a big-time snooper. One day while looking under his mattress I found some porn. Straight porn. I was straight back then. Seriously. You calling me a liar? I looked at it. Just looked. Nothing more. Simply 'cause I didn't do “that” back then. Seriously. Not until I was 20 or something but I digress. Anyway, was pretty good about putting things away where I found them and not getting caught. UNTIL. I had come home from school and no one had been home for a while so figured I'd venture my way up to Jim's room. Opened the door and turned on the light. Jim's girlfriend, Queenie, screamed like no one's business. I apologized, slammed the door shut and went down to my room. Later that night Jim asked me what I was doing in his room. I lied and said I'd heard noises coming from upstairs so I was checking everyone's rooms. He seemed like he believed me but who knows. Barely talked to me the rest of my time at the house.
I made sure classes were done by 3:30 each day so I could hurry home to watch Dancin' on Air (based out of NJ) at 4pm on Channel 17. Our generation's American Bandstand.
Oh, and I also watched Kids Incorporated faithfully. Don't judge.
I made the mistake the of leaving a plastic bowl in the basin next to the washer before heading off to school one day. Oh, and I used the washer before I left as well. Didn't realize said bowl would cover the hole of basin thus not allowing washer water to drain properly. Came home to a partially flooded basement. The part that wasn't my bedroom. The part where everyone stored boxes and such. This was a month into living there. Surprisingly, I wasn't kicked out. My 135-pound self had no problem with crying on cue to get me out of sticky situations.