Pleasure to meet you.

Hi there. I’m Sandy (officially, Sandra Snyder), queen of my castle. Except it’s not really a castle in the way most of us regard castles. Well, actually maybe it is. Like most castles, it has many mysterious things going for it. You know what I mean. Ever have one of those days when you walk in from work, turn your key in the door expecting to pour yourself a glass of wine and get right to the business of rest and relaxation?

Sometimes the house has other plans, doesn’t it? Sometimes the place just doesn’t feel the way you left it, and you suddenly find yourself like that wonderfully intuitive Miss Clavel in Ludwig Bemelmans’ lush and lovely little children’s book “Madeline.”  “Something is not right,” and you just know it.

Maybe it’s only some sort of domestic appendage that has fallen from its rafters and is waiting in the middle of the floor just to say, “Oh, hey there.” Or a minor new crack in a wall, easily fixable. Or perhaps you have a new little friend or two who has stopped by for a look around. Mouse in the house? Bats in the belfry? How about an owl in the fireplace? Yes, I have heard of that happening. (Still, I think I’d rather meet an owl than a bat. Keep it here to learn of the extreme measures I take and the rules I impose, early spring to mid-fall, in hopes of avoiding, at all costs, those frisky, flappy, flying nightmares I am convinced will one day turn me into a vampire whilst I slumber.)

Sometimes — in my case, often — basic H2O is the enemy. (Born under the sign of water, I find this extra hurtful.) Ever meandered on home only to find a puddle of unknown origin in the middle of the floor or beneath the dishwasher? Or maybe water raining from the ceiling? Or shooting out from under the toilet? Better yet, maybe you have a few inches (or even feet) of slop in your basement, but there hasn’t even been heavy rain. What in the … ? Yeah, I’ve had that, too. Ask me about “black water,” my friends.

Sometimes I just have to ask myself: Was I all wet when I bought this place? I mean … Tell me again why this was a good idea. Why in the world did I ever choose to leave the security blanket of my lovely rental property with a responsive (and witty) landlord who catered to my every need?

Well, for one thing, the walls were white and the carpets were tan, and while there’s certainly nothing wrong with that palette, I dream in different colors, admittedly sometimes crazy, out-there, decidedly non-primary colors. And I simply have to be able to change on a moment’s notice, when a mood strikes or a whim whizzes by.

So I bought my own canvas. My own sanctuary. My own tiny piece of the American Dream. And now I am indeed living the dream, snicker snicker. Or do I mean the nightmare?

I go back and forth. And so does this bold house. Sometimes, the old girl is very kind to me, and other times, well, she’s just cranky and lets me know it. But I still wouldn’t trade her for any REAL castle. Because we are having WAY too much fun together.

~ SJS (AMDG)