This house is a shell, its internal organs ripped clean, tossed without ceremony into the mouth of the rusty beast squatting on the sidewalk. Chunks of crumbled, discarded flesh tattooed with saucy red flowers and delicate yellow daisy chains stand testament to a succession of lost identities. Bleached ribs fractured by steel and sweat scream in mute protest, their decades of absorbed memories as broken and discarded as they. Only the skeleton remains, its naked desolation mocked by dusty, silken tendrils. The air no longer holds the whisperings of nearly a century’s worth of life; it rings with the accusing echoes of history’s death.
This house is no longer his.
Or hers.
Or its.
Or even theirs.
This house is a shell.
Waiting to become ours.
Hell and Wheels 
April 9th, 2009 at 5:30 am
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July 23rd, 2008 at 4:31 pm
Christina — I’m doing my best to get my head back on straight. We currently have a crawlspace for a living room floor. After a few days of climbing down the ladder (the stairs are out) and tromping through dirt, we put down the plastic vapor barrier–and it’s like Christmas. Then, last night we started in on getting the floor beams in. So, now it’s joists and then plywood–and then we’ll finally have something to walk on. Once that happens, I think I can at least settle down enough to work a little. Until then, try not to forget me!
July 21st, 2008 at 1:24 am
wow, that’s a lot of work. Can’t wait to see you on the blog front again. I miss talking with you.
July 17th, 2008 at 3:40 am
Kate — Whee! So glad to hear from you. No worries, though; most of my associates currently think I’m dead, too. Just make sure you surface every once in a while, so you can become like Bigfoot. You’ll still get the insurance money because no one will believe you were actually seen, AND you’ll get the additional great benefit of becoming a mythological being.
July 16th, 2008 at 11:40 pm
Well, others have already said it, but my first thought was, “Beautifully written.”Congrats on the house. Good luck. :)(Yeah, I’m still alive, but don’t tell anybody. I look like I could pass for dead and collect on my life insurance.)
July 11th, 2008 at 1:53 pm
lol… mama wuff raised no dumb pups :O mmmuuuahahahahahahahaha
July 11th, 2008 at 3:18 am
Lana — Thanks again. The work is tiring and I’ve already put a nail through my foot, garnered an eye infection from the airborne funk, and am bruised enough to make Ike Turner spin in his grave, but at the end of the day the feeling of accomplishment is huge.Charles — Speaking of blushing… Geez. Thanks. And fortunately, that is not a dog (see Laughingwolf below for the correct answer).Steve — As per my pact with Satan, I get one hour a year to be eloquent in my writing. Last year I used it to detail the contents of my kitchen cupboard. Beautiful piece, that was.Sqt — Not only did the mummy rat and all his dehydrated, eye infection-causing poop go away, I was able to vacuum the studs and ceiling joists. Safe to say I was in heaven.Laughingwolf — Ding! You win the prize for correctly identifying the dusty carcass! The cool thing is (and I’m risking sounding completely sappy as I write this) that the Architect and I are doing it together. That, more than flooring choices and light fixtures, is what will make it ours.
July 10th, 2008 at 10:36 pm
looks like a rat, to me… not sure, thoit will be a chore to make it a home, but love will make it all worthwhile….
July 10th, 2008 at 9:49 pm
Ewwww! Animal corpses. I bet you’re glad you gutted the place.
July 10th, 2008 at 9:07 pm
Damn. You eloquent…Sweet.
July 10th, 2008 at 6:12 pm
This is a beautiful piece of writing. Perfectly framed and delivered.and Wow, is that a mummified dog?
July 10th, 2008 at 6:11 pm
I don’t envy you the work, but enjoy the process of making your house your home & congratulations, again!