u s e y o u r h a n d s

That title? It’s literal. Well, maybe not falling so much. It’s sinking. Why? Because our 1920s bungalow was built on what’s turning out to be a massive pile of trash. No joke. We had a crew out the other day and they pulled out unbroken beer bottles, antique crocks, combs and more from underneath our slab. It’s turning a relatively simple shoring project into something far more complicated and expensive.

I know I should be thankful that we have a house at all, and that we live here with our five happy cats and perfect (albeit currently cranky) baby. But I can’t help to be stunned that the foundation of our haven is garbage and that it’s sucking us in. Symbolic much?