You Just Can't Describe

There are some things you cannot photograph, like the smell of a decade of dust and squirrel droppings co-mingled with dead mouse. I don't know why you would want to anyway, but it would be nice to capture a full sensory record of rehab.

Tonight I prepped the walls for paint by filling in nail holes and knocking off the dust. There were a couple of old AC window units that were Casey's responsibility to remove, but I found my own pleasure in kicking them free. 

The last few inhabitants of this house have each left his or her mark with a selection of cheap, window dressing hardware mercilessly drilled into the trim. This useless, lightweight crap that often holds inappropriate blinds or tacky curtains, is one of my decorating pet peeves, and no matter where I live---always the first to go.  Again in the dark, I pried the tiny aluminum brackets from the wood and for the first time began to see the house as it must have seemed to original owner. Maybe he had it built, or built it himself. Were they thinking about the Truman Doctrine, Princess Elizabeth, or Howard Hughes? It's hard to know, but impossible not to peer out the same windows and not to wonder.