The Lady of the House

There I was lying face up on the sculpted carpet in the faux wood-paneled living room.  The room flipped and the popcorn ceiling served as the floor.  Light fixtures defied gravity by standing stiff on their chains.  Reality, altered with a smear of fantasy, became my secret game.  I’ve always planted one foot inside and one foot outside.  Safe, but flirting, satisfying a need.

 

 

 

 

I’m Angela of The Painted House.

[photos:  Matt Odom]