I'm Not Crazy

~13~ Respect my Privacy

I've been caught stealing
Once when I was 5.
I enjoy stealing
It's just as simple as that.

Jane's Addiction ~ Been Caught Stealing

😈😈😈

The House of Crazy sits on an isolated hill, assaulted on three sides by an ancient grove of twisted oak trees. The Madhouse itself is an old dark grey Victorian-style three-story, with a wide veranda porch that runs all the way around the outside of the house. The third story consists of two of those steepled turret things. One turret has a weathervane lightning rod, the other a tall broken TV antenna, that has been allowed to rust itself half to death. The ancient metallic shingle roof is severely sloped, patina greened with age and exposure to the elements. The color of the roof almost matches the windows on the first story. Which have all been tinted a sick shade of Seven Up green, so as to shade the inside of the house from the sun.

There is rumored to be an old carriage barn somewhere behind the house, that is hidden up the hill behind a massive blackberry jungle. The blackberry bramble started out as a solitary blackberry bush in the vegetable garden that was once upon a time well-maintained by the Mother McCrazy. But over time and neglect, the blackberry jungle has completely taken over a vegetable garden and most of what passes for a backyard. The Crazies in their infinite wisdom have decided to ignore this monstrosity. Because according to the indigenous savages that haunt this place, "who cares cause vegetables suck ass anyways."

While the outside of the old Madhouse looks like it's seen a lot of wear and tear since it was built a hundred years ago or so? The inside of the Madhouse is surprisingly clean and clear of debris and refuse. The first floor is a wide-open space with thick old oak wood floors, that probably needed a polish two decades ago. There is a wide banister staircase leads up to the second story, where most of the bedrooms are located. With access to the third story attic turrets by an old wooden pull-down foldout ladder of questionable integrity.

In surprising contrast to the worn interior, the kitchen is relatively new and modern. Complete with bright white art-deco tiles and modern stainless steel appliances. The kitchen represents the only renovation that's been done in the last seventy years to the place, after they put in electricity and indoor plumbing. All in all, it's very lovely for a depressing insane asylum.

But that's not where I am going ...it's where I came from.

When we get home from The'rapist the eerily empty madhouse is quiet. All the dogs are gone, even the four-legged ones that live to bark outside. I find out that in the wake of my meltdown Sheriff Buddy has taken all the animals camping for the weekend, to one of the local lakes.

Presumably, so they can drink beer, frolic with firearms and pee freely into the large lake with wild abandon. I assume this last-minute camping trip is to give me and my best friend some space to talk. Or to hide out, hoping I will forget to ask which one of the savages stole my necklace out of my locker.

Alone at last, my mother and I have a light dinner of Cambell's chicken noodle soup, with crushed saltine crackers crumbles, of course. She has used this same recipe for every minor illness of mine since I got the chickenpox when I was three. Thus the whole fowl themed meals when any illness strikes. After forcing myself to finish everything, including the oily broth, I head to my room to change for bed. Because dumb drugs aside, I am exhausted from all the sharing and caring that I have been forced to endure.

Rifling through my closet and pull out an old pair of comfortable winter flannels for bed. While I'm not particularly cold, I think I could really use the comfort right about now. I go into my drawers for a clean pair of underwear, which is when I find a note lying inside my underwear drawer. Something that I am almost pretty sure was not there before I left to The'rapy. I assume correctly that the note must be from Stevie. Hidden in the one place where he knows he's not supposed to go in my room. But also where he knows that I will find it, and where my mother would never think to look.