Oregon. Sixty-eight acres, a castle, and that Tardis elevator. Niiiice.

#29: I always wonder about falcon-claw couches like that: who thought it was normal to sit back to back to talk?

Vague Cask of Amontillado vibes with the bathroom in #18–so of course the next picture is of the wine room. I don’t drink, so I’m wondering, if you could mothproof that room, air pressure outwards at any incoming, could you lay cones of mill-end yarns in those horizontal slots? No ziplocs needed anymore, just all those glorious colors showing?

After all, some yarns do need to marinate properly before finding what they were meant for. A thousand slots might be a challenge, but I’m up for it.

Thirteen thousand feet, ten bedrooms, at least two kitchens, who’s in with me? There’s room for all! And your yarn, too. I’ll scoot mine over for you.