Anonymous wrote:When I was in the 6th grade, I went to a sleepover with a friend from school. I rode the bus home with her. The following Saturday we went to visit another classmate at her house. They had a bunch of kids and friends at the house. We had a blast. On the way back home from the fun house, my friend said she never really went to that home often because those people lived in a tile house and her mother said all tile houses meant they were poor so the girl could only associate with brick home people.
Sunday morning her mother drove me home. The looks on their faces when we pulled up to my tile house. Mind you, a RENTAL house.
What she didn't know was we were living there because we were building a new brick home. One that made her brick home look like a poverty row house.
I never told her about our new house and she never invited my poor self back to hers. Just between us, their house smelled like old people.