If you're not knitting, the terrorists win

(My mostly on-topic ramblings about knitting. And life in general. My life in specific.)

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Location: Indiana, United States

I'm a middle aged mother of 2 grown children and wife to a man who doesn't seem to mind my almost heroin-like yarn addiction. I spend my time writing, knitting, and generally stressing out.

Friday, May 16, 2014

Time Travelling... Of A Sort

I did something really weird today. I was reading an article about these people who were getting sick and couldn't figure out why. Then they had their house (which they'd moved into 5 months before) tested and found out it had 18 times the acceptable level (whatever that is) for meth. Now, to me, any level of meth is unacceptable. But apparently the government has their own standard, too.

But, whatever the standard is, these people were way over it. Their home used to be a meth lab. But this was not disclosed by the realty company. The company, by the way, is the same realty company that didn't disclose to us that the roof of the house we were buying had maybe a couple of good rains before it became more of a colander. Good thing we had an inspection first, right? They were really shady about it, too. We asked, "How old is the roof?" multiple times and they answered, "The owners haven't lived in this house." and "This house has been vacant for 14 months while the owners have been renovating it as an investment." Shady. Unethical. Dishonest.

Anyway, these poor people had all kinds of health issues (and their dog died of cancer) and so the article listed all the former meth houses in Indiana. So of course, I looked up all the addresses I knew to see if any of them were in there. I looked up everywhere I'd ever lived. None of them had been meth houses, by the way.

But I did find an address from my hometown that made me think "Where is that?" So I Googled it and looked at the street view. Then, because I found myself on a street I had walked down many, many times in my youth (That sounds bad. There were no meth houses there when I walked down it. Okay?) I decided to "walk" down it again. Using Google's street view to buzz ahead a little at a time, I "walked" all the way to my old house. And then, I "walked" to my brother's house. And then I "walked" to my grandma's house.

Let me just tell you, that is a weird feeling. It's very surreal. Maybe it's because 90% of my dreams take place in this town (that's weird, because I haven't lived there since I was 17), but it was a very dreamlike effect. The zooming from one end of the street to another--across town and back--had a very unreal, dream quality to it. But it also seemed very real, too. Like dreams do.

Especially my grandma's house--which has not changed at all. It even had the two painted metal chairs on the porch that Grandma and Grandpa used to sit on. The same clothesline at the side of the house. It gave me such a startle, I had to stop.

So weird. I'm tyring to decide if that was a good idea to do that.


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