The Move

It was a dark and stormy night. . . OK, so it's 9:35 am on a Monday, but this is Oregon so it's still dark and stormy. As I was saying . . . It was a dark and stormy Monday morning as "Marlene" drove to her soon to be home in Multnomah Village. . . the builder had suggested Marlene visit the construction site on a daily basis these last few days just to be sure the details were being finished to her liking. Marlene's Honda Pilot shifted itself into four wheel drive to negotiate the last trecherous yards to the driveway. Marlene (and the car) had been disappointed to learn that the much needed street paving project wasn't going to happen until July of 06!
The house was as grey as the sky surrounding it. The tri-color brown exterior paint had to wait for the sun to shine for more than one day in a row. Marlene sighed. One more barrier to hurdle before she could move to her own private paradise. Paradise in Marlene's mind was the room over the garage. Complete with its own bathroom and three skylights, this would be where Marlene's creative endevours would take place. A room safely away from the distraction of her husband Mack and cat Mydia.
Marlene pulled into the driveway, surprised to find it void of cars. Most days, Marlene parked several houses down the street, due to the various cars, truck, trailers and occasional earth scoopers and diggers. The whole street was quiet, as if time were standing still. She found the door to the house locked, which could only mean she had the place to herself. Marlene retreived her key from the secret hiding place (you didn't think I was going to tell you where that was, did you?) and opened the door to the stairs that led to her over the garage garret. With no one else around, she could start with her favorite space.
The stairs were steep, and Marlene stopped to catch her breath at the top landing. Marlene's garage had a double gabled roof line, and Marlene had requested that the space under the first gable be made into closets. (see www.thebungalowcompany.com and search for the Morris if you need to see a picture to understand what I'm talking about) Counting front and back, this provided three much needed closets for the storage of fabric and oversize cutting mats and other tools of the quilters trade. The closet created by the back gable line was at the top of the stairs, opposite where Marlene was standing. She couldn't help but notice that the as yet unpainted custom closet door was slightly ajar. That was strange. . . She had examined the doors on her last visit and had been impressed with how well they fit the odd little closets. She slipped her fingers under the right top edge of the door (the knobs haven't been installed yet) and opened the door. Marlene screamed! A man's body flopped out of the closet and onto the landing . . . .