how many people in their skivvies does it take to change a light bulb?

My sweet cousin, Erin, challenged me to share 20 memories to commemorate the 20th anniversary of living in my house.

That led to me dragging out the three boxes of photos that were wedged in the back of the closet. Which mostly made me sad. Sad that I'm not sure of who some of the people are. Sad that I'm not more organized and didn't at least scrawl a date on the envelope. Sad about some of my hairstyles and clothing choices. Sad that several of my friends are no longer with us. Sad that I wasn't a better photographer years ago.

So instead of illustrating a memory with a photograph, you'll just have to use your imagination.

I've worked at Marigold Clothing Store, in various roles, the whole time it's been open, with the exception of the five years that I lived out East. I'm guessing that it was around 1997 that I was working there full time as the manager.

Marigold was still on Guilford Ave, where the BRVA office is now. I would typically eat at the Parthenon restaurant next door, with my nose in a book during my 30 minute break.

Occasionally I would run home for lunch. The light bulb above my kitchen door had burned out and I wanted to change it in the daylight. I couldn't quite reach it on my own so I had to balance a stool in the steps.

I had the light cover in one hand, the old light bulb in my mouth (don't judge me!) and was screwing the fresh bulb in the socket when the kitchen door slammed shut and locked. With a good chunk of my dress stuck in it. I pulled in the dress and heard a rip. I couldn't step down with the dress caught in the top of the door.

Crud.

Atfer looking around to make sure my neighbors weren't in sight, I shimmied out of the dress and ran in my underpinnings to the front porch where I had a spare key. Unfortunately the key was to the kitchen door so I had to run back up the driveway in my skivvies to unlock the door.

I wish I could say that it was the last time I've locked myself out of the house....