Getting my laundry in order...

I loved Down the Rabbit Hole so much I climbed into the third story laundry chute of Mrs. Noll's house.  I was an Alice in Wonderland junkie, or so I'm told, when only a  mere toddler.   It was an unusual house with many window seats, perfect for curling up against anyone who would read Alice, Mr.Toad's Wild Ride, or Big Farmer Big to me.  As I recall, the place smelled pretty good too. (Cinnamon)
Anyway, down the chute I went.  It became a folk story relayed by family and friends to anyone who'd listen. There's a couple of us remaining, but most have gone down (up?) that cosmic chute toward the light.
  
As you probably know, family tales become more elaborate in the telling.

I fell down the first floor laundry chute, landing on a pile of clothes and blankets in the basement.  I didn't cry much but was driven to the Doctor just to make sure I was OK.  I was.

I fell down the second floor laundry chute to a thin sheet in the basement. I wailed, prompting Mrs. Noll to rush me to the Doctor. I was inconsolable until he put a band aide over my finger in an attempt to get me to shut up.  I did. I was OK.

I fell down the third floor laundry chute to bare cement in the basement.  I screamed bloody murder and nearly choked to death crying. I was rushed to the hospital where I underwent a battery of tests which indicated I was OK.  Still, I wouldn't stop crying. The Doctor put a band aide over my navel in an attempt to make me stop.  I did.   But there has always been talk that there was irreparable damage to my psyche and might be the reason I've been on anti-depressants for most of my life.

I've learned several important lessons from this;



A.  Everyone lies, or at the very least, memories become a little hazy when telling family stories.
B.  Lying [embellishing] is good when relaying family tales because you get a bigger laugh and the story never gets old.
C. The more we embellish, the more the embellished story becomes fact.

D. These stories  insinuate who we are as people. If we're lucky,we have a lot of family stories. 

E.  This particular story's authenticity lies somewhere in the middle. Only the laundry chute really knows the 411...and it's not talking.
F.  My life has become analogous of falling down a laundry chute. It's an ironic parody. The last laugh is on me.

I was encouraged to start a blog by a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist. Her name is Jacqui Banaszynski. I consider her more than a mentor. She is the fluffy comforter at the bottom of the chute beckoning me to go ahead and jump.
I encourage feed-back.  I'm new at this and really haven't a clue how to set this thing up, so I just decided to climb in and let it take me where it will. There will be cushy landings, hard ones, and everything in between.  But I fully intend to enjoy the ride.