The little house of quirks

In other news while I've been away...

We moved into a new home. It's one of the most ridiculous homes we've ever lived in and I completely love it.

I've never done house reveals on my blog but this is something that's really best described visually to give you an idea of the oddity-greatness that is this home.

Shall we begin?

This is actually a refurnished / rebuilt / remade? (what are the house construction terms I'm looking for?) bathroom that was once a master closet.

A closet with the most excellent door handles that delight me to no end.

(This may be about 400 words too late in this post to mention, but none of this is written with sarcasm. Just about everything, good and bad, about this apartment enthralls me and I hope we live here forever. Or at least a good while.)

Anyway, the door handles! Can you imagine using these to knock to use the potty?

Not that we knock to use the potty around here. Arrow tends to fling the doors open whenever and wherever she pleases. She does this with more gusto than Hurricane Harvey. (Too soon?)


When we first moved here, these sort of bothered me. Not because there's anything inherently wrong with visible pipes, it's just that I'm from a state that's always trying to gussy up or hide away ugly things. For instance, back from where I'm from, we would not simply "return the tools" borrowed from the neighbor. No, that'd be far too simple! Back in Utah, we must instead wrap the tools in a wicker basket and top that basket with a saran-wrapped paper plate of homemade sugar cookies in shapes of little hammers.

Ugly things must be made beautiful.

While we're at it, why not keep the electricity-bearing pipes within the walls? Sincere question.

To be honest though, we adjusted after a week.


This is one of those things that is unclear to me why there's so much space, but I have peace in knowing the universal powers that be know there's a greater reason.

When Taylor and I house hunt online, we always look for houses that are designed for home art galleries. (These homes are always AT LEAST a bajillion and one dollars, which miffs me. As if they're making a statement that somebody lower class, admittedly someone like myself, couldn't appreciate art the same way high class people can.) 

Anyway, this hallway is sort of fulfilling that home-art-galley purpose with our beloved map, carried all the way from Utah. Come to think of it, this may actually be an understated bedroom. Perhaps this summer it may became a more legitimate gallery.

Funky houses bring me so much joy. 
What quirks have you lived with before?

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