The House on Andover Road

The House on Andover Road

My house is pretty weird. You are greeted by a door as purple as a New England sunset. Music is playing at all times. Yarn and fabric are laid out like an artful design of clutter. 27 stairs up 27 stairs down. There are rules in this house like no dancing in the kitchen, no playing with fire, and no jump roping with ankle weights. In earlier days dinosaurs bit your feet as you walked on them, and race cars never drove back to my brother’s room. Now you have to watch out for ipods and cell phones jumping out at you just waiting to get broken. My room is always a mess, but that’s how I like it, I’m uneasy if it gets too clean. Music blaring, just the way I like it. The Mona Lisa stares at you during the day, and David Tennant protects the room from monsters at night. Of course there’s sci fi posters scattered about the room showing this room belongs to Ella. That’s my room for you. My brother’s room is booby trapped, danger lurks in there. Don’t go in there… trust me. Books are everywhere; we have a bookshelf in just about every room. The books are just dying to be read while we waste our lives in front of the TV. Organic food in the kitchen, and an herb garden out back just some of the perks of having an amazing vegetarian cook for a father. In the living room we have a lime green couch of mystery,- everything gets lost in there. I’ve lost text books, and my pet cuddles in there. We found my mom’s cell phone she lost 5 years ago a few days ago in fact. A rocket ship bag stolen from NASA lies unloved on the bottom of our downstairs closet. A playroom that hasn’t been played in since the summer lies just beyond the living room. On the mantle a most hated portrait of me lurks silently for me to forget to turn it around when company is over. That’s my house for you. My house is pretty weird you leave and turn back for just a second, and see a door as purple as a New England sunset.