Look, I have small children myself. I know how annoying they can be. But really -- and you might want to check your county's laws about this, but I'm pretty certain it's true nationally -- you're not allowed to keep them at the bottom of a mine shaft.
Found by Teresa.
These charming pots were found by Roy. "Big pots, little pots, flying pots," he says. "Pots on parade."
Pots!
(I really do sort of like the pots. I do not know why.)
No need to mop! Let our amazing new basement technology clean itself! Rinses automatically. Over and over and over again.
Thanks to Paula for this basement with a babbling brook. (Is that seaweed on the walls?)
This is where they made pitstops while filming this scene:
Josh sent me this listing, because of the condition of the house. Yeah, sure, there's a photo that shows nothing but a crammed closet. And yes, the bathroom is astoundingly cluttered and it would've only taken three seconds to clear the counter and take a good photo.
But I forgive them everything, because they have had the excellent idea to put a foosball table in the kitchen. I shall copy them. I'll have to toss my table away to make room, but I don't care. Foosball! In the kitchen! Brilliant!
Mary the Nebraska Realtor found this house. The listing is one of those "slowly growing dread" ones. It starts out with a cute-as-a-button bungalow, then the interiors become more and more trashed, and finally we end up in the basement where -- if I'm seeing this correctly -- a bulging Hellmouth is about to open and bring forth the end of the world. Tra la la.
Yes. This is exactly the home situation I want to move in to. Thank you. And look, here I am driving my car, about to smash right into the house. Hope that's okay!
