I live in my head. It’s a house I wish I could put on the market, even for a short sale, frankly. But I think I am destined to spend my my life in an old fixer upper that never gets fixed.
Every house has its stories, though, so that’s something. This site is not meant to be coherent or gorgeous or press-ready. It’s an archive of old junk and a container for what I can catch while the rest slips through my fingers.
House of Why 
