Um, that doesn't fit on my keychain.

If You Think I’m Weird, You Should Meet My House

Our house has quirks.

You may have thought I covered those in the Psychotic Toilet Set Up, but I hadn’t even begun detailing my home’s “selling points.”

Why not start in the family room.  The floor of this well-loved room is supposedly taken from a 1780s farmhouse.  I spent the first year in our home convinced that I would be the first person in over 200 years who managed to destroy the hearts of pine floor in some attempt to clean/move/organize in it’s general vicinity. Until I realized that the proper translation of owning a 1780s farmhouse floor is: “Welcome to an old floor with giant gaps that better thought of as highways for the insects that used to live in your yard.”

It's like a creepy I-95. With less construction.

Moving on to the hallway, we have a Harry Potter bedroom underneath the stairs that all the neighborhood kids have written their names on. Quaint until we were told during the tour that UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES WERE WE ALLOWED TO PAINT OVER THE NAMES OF RANDOM KIDS WE DON’T KNOW. But, unless these kids are now wizards, I’m pretty sure I’ll be doing whatever I want with that door.

Scott's in there RIGHT NOW under his Cloak of Invisibility. Ooh. Ah.

We were then told that our living room fireplace was carved by George Washington. In between crossing the Delaware River and running our fledgling country, he carver MY FIREPLACE MANTLE along with 6-17 others.

It just screams GEORGE!

But the oddest is our front door, which wasn’t mentioned or really noted during the tour but has certainly rocked our world since we purchased this house.  The doorknob doesn’t work.  That’s right. It’s decorative.  But the strange hook below it? That’s how we open the door.  Which means every single guest that I have ever had to my home (at least ten people) thought they were trapped FOR LIFE when they attempt to leave. Because who thinks GIANT HOOK. Nobody, that’s who.

Please ignore the doorknob in front of your face.

Of course, the giant hook is locked with a giant skeleton key. DUH.

Um, that doesn't fit on my key chain.

This also means that, when my children decide the irresistible castle key would be perfect for their game of HIDE STUFF SOMEWHERE, we are screwed.

  1. If the front door is locked at the time of its hiding, WE CANNOT USE THE FRONT DOOR. (Oh hi friend! Can you hear me through the door? Please come around to the back. My kids locked us in.)
  2. Which is just slightly better than if the front door was unlocked because then WE HAVE TO GO OUTSIDE, LOCK IT AND COME AROUND TO THE BACK DOOR before we can go to sleep at night.

It was once missing for three days.  I found it in Harry Potter’s bedroom.

I’ve thought about getting a spare, but what is my local hardware shop going to do? Um, castle keys are aisle nine.

So we live among this chicanery. As it should be.

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