Old school
Apr. 27th, 2017 05:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vicarzOddly when I arrived home from picking up a package
at the most run down Best Buy I've ever seen
there was a package on my porch. It was strategically placed behind my porch brick pillar, but I didn't recall ordering anything. It wasn't my name and but it was my address...only on 10th Street.
I tried to look up the phone / name online, but nothing came up.
I walked the package over and it was an old row house like mine. It was beside a renovated place with a gas light burning in a lantern outside. It was so old the vestibule was still there and mostly still tiled, with a storm door on the outside. It smelled of dog and cigarettes.
I knocked. Tiny yipper dogs barked for a long time before an old black woman opened the door. She must have looked through the peephole first, right? I was still dressed from the gym. I showed her the package and she confirmed her address - but it wasn't her or her package. However, then she said "Wait a minute, I'll be that's my granddaughter...she's always ordering things here for other people..." So she picked up her land-line phone (cordless!) and called her. She invited me in !?
To the dismay of one and joy of the other dog I stood in the hallway and closed the door behind me. I looked the place over - and it was everything I ever wanted in a grandma house. The carpet was old and literally dogged. The pocket doors were still in, as were many other original details. Pictures of family were everywhere. So this was a grandma house with grandma in it - hope she stays there another 100 years.
It seems her granddaughter confirmed the package was hers, and grandma hung up on her fast. She thanked me and here I am writing about it. It's just, I talk about grandma houses, and this was it with her in it. Also, the anti-gentrification rants about af-amer families? Well this was one.
No point or anything - I used to write about little experiences like this. I didn't even mention the guy in the gym who smelled like mildewed cheese...
at the most run down Best Buy I've ever seen
there was a package on my porch. It was strategically placed behind my porch brick pillar, but I didn't recall ordering anything. It wasn't my name and but it was my address...only on 10th Street.
I tried to look up the phone / name online, but nothing came up.
I walked the package over and it was an old row house like mine. It was beside a renovated place with a gas light burning in a lantern outside. It was so old the vestibule was still there and mostly still tiled, with a storm door on the outside. It smelled of dog and cigarettes.
I knocked. Tiny yipper dogs barked for a long time before an old black woman opened the door. She must have looked through the peephole first, right? I was still dressed from the gym. I showed her the package and she confirmed her address - but it wasn't her or her package. However, then she said "Wait a minute, I'll be that's my granddaughter...she's always ordering things here for other people..." So she picked up her land-line phone (cordless!) and called her. She invited me in !?
To the dismay of one and joy of the other dog I stood in the hallway and closed the door behind me. I looked the place over - and it was everything I ever wanted in a grandma house. The carpet was old and literally dogged. The pocket doors were still in, as were many other original details. Pictures of family were everywhere. So this was a grandma house with grandma in it - hope she stays there another 100 years.
It seems her granddaughter confirmed the package was hers, and grandma hung up on her fast. She thanked me and here I am writing about it. It's just, I talk about grandma houses, and this was it with her in it. Also, the anti-gentrification rants about af-amer families? Well this was one.
No point or anything - I used to write about little experiences like this. I didn't even mention the guy in the gym who smelled like mildewed cheese...
