Apartment

Here's the front door to ole' No. 88. It's got the nice center doorknob and the Georgian window above. The downside is you have to unlock another door inside and the key looks like it was forged by a 17th century blacksmith.















The view from the carpark. The illuminated window is the living room. The one to the left of it is the kitchen.

















Our street sign.













My and Sam's bedroom from the door. Notice the newspapers I crammed in the window to attempt to keep it from banging in the wind. Also, the white line is not the top of the window - it goes all the way to the ceiling and is made out of
foot-thick submarine glass.








Alternate view of our room from the bathroom. My bed is the one on the left.

















Checking to make sure the mirror worked. All systems nominal.












Our bathroom - a beautifully restored replica of the shower facilities on a WWII-era Soviet submarine. The little white box converts peat moss into hot water. Dumb as it sounds, it's far more effective than the shower in the other bathroom, which gets its hot water from a small-scale replica of Sputnik in one of the hall closets that has about 50 dials and hoses. There's a nice little pullstring heater that warms up the bathroom at the cost of making it smell like a 10-year old hairdryer.










The view from our window. For sharpness I had to choose the picture with the ghost in it.












The galley. The orb light fixture was stolen from a nearby Waffle House...or Bangers n' Mash House. The model of the Millennium Falcon on the counter is actually our newly-purchased George Foreman grill. We have two mini-fridges. On the far left is the combination washer-dryer. It requires a college education, a blood sacrifice, and about 30 hours to complete a cycle. Perry started a load of shirts early Saturday and they were done Sunday evening.











The living room. The fireplace has fake bricks of peat moss. Unfortunately, the chimney is blocked up. I've strategized other ways to make fire, mostly for purposes of cooking barbecue, but all would probably result in my arrest.















One of the bad ass paintings in the living room. They're both on canvas and have actual brushmarks and stuff so we presume they're real paintings. So far the leading candidates for this girl's name are Shonde' and Towanda. Feel free to post suggestions.














The other great painting. I title it The Stench of Avarice.