It's like a barn in here

Adam and I bought a house. It is a beautiful old house in Lansdowne, PA. We are super psyched to fix it up and move in--moving day is approaching quickly. Since it is an old house we are learning new things about it almost everyday.

For instance I learned that back in the 1800s (when our house was built) they used to plaster the walls with dirt and horsehair. It's true, there are horses in our walls.

We decided to demo a closet, that wasn't really a closet (unless people in the 1800s had shoulder widths of less than 1'0") in our guest room. It is a small room that we wanted to make just a little bigger. I took on the job of demo (although later Adam took over for me). Adam has a tremendous amount of skill in building and fine carpentry, and well, I can break things.

As I am smashing away at this plaster covered closet (with the appropriate dust mask, of course) I find large tufts of horse hair. At first it kinda grosses me out, because, well there are parts of dead animals in my wall--and it smells REALLY bad.

But then I started to think about it more, not in any philosophical way or anything. Just about the actual horses in our walls. I think I found 3 different types of horses in that closet. Their pictures are below (or so I think):

This horse made up the bottom third of the closet. I like to call him Midnight.

This horse made up the middle third of the closet. I fondly remember him as Ginger. I also have a friend named Alec that we call Ginger. The two are not related.

Now, this one is a shot in the dark, but I think this was the horse that made up the rest of the closet. I have decided that this one is a girl and her name is Martha. She looks like a Martha, doesn't she?

. . .And this is what goes through my head. I'd like to say that it only happens when I am doing things like smashing closets, but it happens pretty much all the time.