For any who have never been to Maine, we like to say that we have our own way of life here. We're a little behind the times in a lot of ways, and we like it that way. Progress smogress, we like things the way they always have been.
Like our homes.
Those who can't afford a piece of land to put a trailer on while you build your own house usually live in something that has stood the test of time. Sure, there's new buildings going up all the time, but most of those are being sold to the people that come here "from away"...and that means that, unless your birth certificate states that you popped out of your mumma right here in a hospital within the borders of this state, you're "from away".
Because I left for 18 months and lived in Florida long enough to give birth to my eldest child, I'm still a Mainer, but he's "from away". Same with my daughter, who was born in New Hampshire because it was a faster drive to that hospital than to the one in Bridgton. We were living in Maine at the time, but she's "from away".
My friends "from away" think the crazy little farmhouse I live in is "quaint" when they come to visit. It's basically a little ranch house that had sheds and a barn attached at some point in it's history. The barn was gone well before we bought the place, but the sheds had been "added in" to the downstairs rooms by someone who randomly knocked out walls. This same person, who seemed to like odd spaces, added on to the side of the building a couple of times as well. The place we boughr has odd corners, strange accoustics, and lots of weird places where rodents can hide....
and, much to my dismay at times, to expire while hiding, making me want to award the little beasty the trophy for "hide and seek champion", but first I need to dispose of the body and get rid of that smell that was permeating my kitchen and made me begin the gruesome game in the first place...
Heaven help me if they ever do a search of my search history. This little 'guess what died in your house this time" game doesn't happen all the time, but I'm getting older and don't remember from one time to the next what worked best. I have to do that search again for "removing the smell of a body" and jog my memory with the options. And then, because OCD should be included somewhere in my name, I tear the whole room apart, cleaning into every corner, making the whole room sanitary....
And then we'll go a month or so....
And then, because it's Maine and life goes on here the way that it has for centuries, the little beasties will ignore the baits and the traps and work their way into some odd crevice, either to get stuck or to hide because we have foxes outside our house that sometimes damage a mouse internally, but lose it before the kill. Some morning, I'll step down into the kitchen and mutter what my husband swears is now a single word....
Whatthehellisthat?
And the search will begin again, and I will find the "hide and seek champion" in some odd place, dispose of the body and search the internet for the tip that seemed to work best last time, get rid of that horrible smell, and life will go on...
Because it's Maine and it's The Way Life Should Be.
Like our homes.
Those who can't afford a piece of land to put a trailer on while you build your own house usually live in something that has stood the test of time. Sure, there's new buildings going up all the time, but most of those are being sold to the people that come here "from away"...and that means that, unless your birth certificate states that you popped out of your mumma right here in a hospital within the borders of this state, you're "from away".
Because I left for 18 months and lived in Florida long enough to give birth to my eldest child, I'm still a Mainer, but he's "from away". Same with my daughter, who was born in New Hampshire because it was a faster drive to that hospital than to the one in Bridgton. We were living in Maine at the time, but she's "from away".
My friends "from away" think the crazy little farmhouse I live in is "quaint" when they come to visit. It's basically a little ranch house that had sheds and a barn attached at some point in it's history. The barn was gone well before we bought the place, but the sheds had been "added in" to the downstairs rooms by someone who randomly knocked out walls. This same person, who seemed to like odd spaces, added on to the side of the building a couple of times as well. The place we boughr has odd corners, strange accoustics, and lots of weird places where rodents can hide....
and, much to my dismay at times, to expire while hiding, making me want to award the little beasty the trophy for "hide and seek champion", but first I need to dispose of the body and get rid of that smell that was permeating my kitchen and made me begin the gruesome game in the first place...
Heaven help me if they ever do a search of my search history. This little 'guess what died in your house this time" game doesn't happen all the time, but I'm getting older and don't remember from one time to the next what worked best. I have to do that search again for "removing the smell of a body" and jog my memory with the options. And then, because OCD should be included somewhere in my name, I tear the whole room apart, cleaning into every corner, making the whole room sanitary....
And then we'll go a month or so....
And then, because it's Maine and life goes on here the way that it has for centuries, the little beasties will ignore the baits and the traps and work their way into some odd crevice, either to get stuck or to hide because we have foxes outside our house that sometimes damage a mouse internally, but lose it before the kill. Some morning, I'll step down into the kitchen and mutter what my husband swears is now a single word....
Whatthehellisthat?
And the search will begin again, and I will find the "hide and seek champion" in some odd place, dispose of the body and search the internet for the tip that seemed to work best last time, get rid of that horrible smell, and life will go on...
Because it's Maine and it's The Way Life Should Be.
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