1950 Memories of Suburban Adventures

Wicked Cinderella

www.healthyrooshappysoul.com Don't annoy Cinderella while she's working!

http://www.healthyrooshappysoul.com
Don’t annoy Cinderella while she’s working!

In my mind, when I wasn’t reading, visiting friends, watching television, talking on the phone, or a myriad of other fun activities, I was toiling away like a modern day Cinderella. But it didn’t necessarily mean I was filled with sugar and spice and everything nice.

As a bi-weekly surprise for Mom I mopped and waxed the floor. In the middle of mopping, Susan got up from the sofa during a commercial break and went to the kitchen, making footprints on my clean floor.

Hmmm.

Halfway through the waxing, she got up again. I watched her walk across the sofa, climb over the stairway, and stretch for the nearest chair. She couldn’t reach it. Two little feet touched the floor.

“Get outside until I’m done waxing and polishing,” I commanded.

A half hour later it began sprinkling. Susan wanted to come in.

“Wait until I finish polishing,” I yelled through the locked door.

1965 - Like Cinderella, I was surrounded by happy animals.

1965 – Like Cinderella, I was surrounded by happy animals.

The rain picked up and Susan chose to annoy me by knocking on the glass door, demanding to be let inside.

I was sixteen and she was seven; not an even match. I buffed the last linoleum tile and walked to the door with my eyes shut and arms outstretched.

“Where are you, I can’t see,” I shouted. “I can’t find the handle.”

“Let me in, I’m getting all wet,” she screamed.

I blindly fumbled around. “I’m trying, I can’t find the doorknob.”

I think I teased her for too long and made her mad, because she pulled her fist back and punched it through one of the glass panes.

I let her in. There was no running blood, but her knuckles were red and scratched.

“Look what you did,” I yelled. “You could have sliced a vein and killed yourself.”

Three sisters (circa 1969) Susan, me, Paula

Three sisters (circa 1969)
Susan, me, Paula

Our age difference made her feel foolish for her actions and sure she’d get punished. When Mom came home I put a positive spin on the broken door (on my behalf).

In a strange twist of fate, and quite unfairly, Susan’s expected doom became my destiny.

Around seven years later, Susan locked Paula outside and pretended to be blind. Same door, almost the same result; Paula used her forehead instead of her fist.

Lesson learned: None are so blind as those who refuse to see.

Related posts: Chapter Twelve: The End Justifies The Means

Now it’s your turn: Did you ever have a door problem?

© Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures, 2012 forward. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Mary Norton-Miller and 1950s Suburban Adventures with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


18 Comments

  1. My granddaughter, age 2 only two days ago is all things Cinderella. She loves the character at such a young age. Great story and I hope you get to have a nice long weekend.

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Levi, she’s too young to scrub the floors, so you’ll have to tie sponges to her feet and let her scuff around. Your granddaughter sounds beautiful.
      Enjoy your weekend, too.

      • She helps bake Poppie cookies though. Lol. No floor scrubbing yet for her. She’s a Princess though. It was a fun piece. Thanks and have a great day!!

  2. Val Mills says:

    I was really holding my breath with this, hoping the second time round nothing too serious happened. I don’t take the time to visit often, I know, but when I do your stories never let me down.

  3. Glynis Jolly says:

    LOL 😀

    You were wicked back then. Either that or I was too docile. 😛

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Glynis, I don’t know why I didn’t just send her to the bedroom until the floor was dry. I was laughing so hard while fumbling around for the doorknob with my eyes shut, that I could hardly hear her yelling about the rain.
      The funniest part is that Susan later locked Paula outside and did the same thing.

  4. spunkybong says:

    You have one thing in common with Dante. This is divine comedy. 🙂

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Thanks, Spunky. Yes, divine is the right word, I always (almost always) felt as though a faint halo hovered above my head. Oh, that’s not what you meant? Ha ha!

  5. suzjones says:

    I think your parents deserve a medal my dear. 🙂

  6. Mimmy Jain says:

    That was fun, Mary, though I’m sure your parents must have had nine lives to survive you lot.
    Here’s my own door story: I was at a friend’s house, which in itself was torture for my shy self. I hated going anywhere without my parents. I then happened to poke my finger through a keyhole and it came out double its size and scorching with pain. There was a wasp’s nest inside! And I was so scared and shy, I didn’t dare say anything despite the pain till the friend’s mother noticed the tears rolling down my cheeks and got to work with a cut onion to draw the sting out. Wasps and I have a previous life relationship, I have so many wasp sting stories.

  7. Morguie says:

    My sister was a hothead and I had my door closed to my room. I didn’t want to let her in for some reason, so she gave the door a swift kick! Hollow core door= disastrous hole! Things got worse when I decided payback was a good idea. I returned the favor and kicked a hole in her door. I cannot recall how long we managed to prop the doors (cover the holes) before Dad found out. Probably a couple of months. But when it was discovered… Oh gads we were so busted! Plus, we got to take the doors and repair them ourselves…patching, sanding, painting. We were bigtime grounded and had to spend a “hole” lotta time working on those wretched things!

  8. Once, reaching for the central door pillar to gain leverage as I alighted from the back seat of a car, the driver slammed the front door on my fingers. He left the area, as it were, apparently deaf to my protests. I couldn’t reach the front door handle, so only when he returned, some five minutes later, did I gain my freedom. He then drove me straight to the hospital!,

    • skinnyuz2b says:

      Fred, that is definitely a door problem! I hope your fingers were/are okay. It seems like there is a fifty-fifty chance of having your fingers slammed in a door at some point in your life. So far, I’m on the lucky side of the fifty.

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