#basement ceiling insulation

[kenmarbasementsystems]

Basement Ceiling Insulation

All of the insulation products they install are designed to withstand water and moisture and provide you with greater comfort from the ground up. For more, visit: https://kenmarbasementsystems.com/basement-and-crawlspace-insulation

[sprayfoaminsulationquotes]

A Complete Guide to Ceiling Insulation

Around 40% of the heat in a home can flee through an un-insulated roof or ceiling. This is a substantial amount of heat loss that can be easily prevented with better ceiling insulation.

Your home’s ceiling is the best place to start if you are trying to insulate your home or undertaking this task for the first time. It is seldom critical to understand how to insulate a ceiling all by yourself or hire a professional for the purpose.

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

my little voyeur

neighbour!loganxvoyeur!reader

a/n: so sorry about the hiatus, started university and midterms are already here, crazy. anyway, enjoy this little idea i had, inspired by a real life situation. xox

wc:3.1k

MDNI !!! 18+, AGE GAP, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL USE

summary: Y/N is growing needier with every one-night stand her hot neighbour brings over, one night she decides to be his next.

"-Oh fuck, keep going!" A muffled voice cried between the rhythmic thumping noises that came from the ceiling above you.

You bit down on your lip, shifting needily on your sofa. 

"Here we go again" You mumbled to yourself, glancing at the clock on your microwave.

8:37 PM. 

"Earlier than usual... Do you have to be somewhere early tomorrow?" You pressed the mute button on your TV remote to get a better listen.

The intrigue in your neighbour's activity had been a shameful recent development. He'd have company over almost every night now; which meant constant, rough sex.

The shared two-story house was old, and the walls were poorly insulated, which surely didn't aid your newfound obsession. Your unit was the basement suite: a homely one-bedroom, one-bathroom with a large kitchenette and living room. Even though you both lived in the same quarters, you both had your own respective spaces and entrances, which meant you rarely crossed paths. 

You knew little about the man upstairs, only that he lived alone, wasn't the talkative type, and rode a Harley Davidson that was equally as loud as his one-night stands.

Though it was ill-mannered of him to be as careless as he was, you couldn't stop yourself from being attracted to him. He might've had a good twenty years on you, but that didn't matter in this case. 

The man was in phenomenal shape for his age; You had come home one day to him working on his bike, shirtless. His physique was composed of thick broad shoulders that counterbalanced his narrow waist and muscular biceps that bulged beneath his skin, flowing seamlessly into veiny forearms. Dark curls of hair stretched downwards from his brawny chest, over his chiselled abs and disappeared into the denim waistband of his wranglers. 

To pair with that irresistible body, was a charmingly rugged face. Thick, untamed eyebrows cast a shadow over his piercing hazel eyes, while dense sideburns traced the sharp angles of his jawline. His short, spiked hair flared into two distinct tufts on either side of his head, adding to his wild, primal look.

"-Logan! I'm coming!" The voice screamed. Since this all began, you found yourself feeling rather bitter. Not only was it rude and annoying but from what you managed to pick up, most nights they would be playing out the very type of fantasies you'd always had but never got the chance to experience.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling that excitement slowly pool in your lower stomach. You knew this would end soon, Logan seemed to have quite the routine, so your impending neediness wouldn't go any farther. 

His partners were usually dead silent for the rest of the night, presumably busy sleeping off the intense sex, which made the inconvenience somewhat tolerable. The only time they would potentially disturb you again was as they made their exit down the stairs the morning after. You could catch glimpses of them as they passed in front of your kitchen window, usually around the time you'd be having your coffee. 

From the looks of it, he had a type: girls your age. They'd always be dressed in last night's skimpy outfit, with knotted hair, but somehow still looked gorgeous. As they stumble their way to the taxi at the edge of the driveway. You'd observe them closer pressing up the glass, often spiking your jealousy.  

The first few you had laid eyes on made you snicker a jaded"How original."  But you were well used to it by now. 

Logan was your typical walking mid-life crisis; Bringing home adventurous young women, fucking their brains out, sending them away in a yellow chariot and never talking to them again. From the frequency of these one-night stands it looked as if he was trying to satisfy a hunger he couldn't seem to fulfill. Almost like preparing for hibernation.

 He was living the bachelor life that men his age could only dream of having, but there was something about the whole routine that felt...off. It was as if every conquest left him more empty, more distant and detached from everything and everyone around him. It wasn't just women that Logan indulged in, he was also a heavy drinker. You could tell by the recycling bin, always overflowing with liquor bottles, and the fact that the few times you'd been to The Black Lodge—the only bar in small-town Burns, Alaska—you had seen him there

You watched from your bar stool, careful to remain unnoticed. The brief exchanges between him and the bartender made it clear he was a regular—no need for small talk, just an easy, practiced silence. Logan's eyes, however, never lingered on the glass of neat whiskey in front of him. Instead, his gaze swept over the crowd, scanning for his next target, his posture relaxed but predatory. Despite his intimidating exterior, there was something magnetic about the way he worked the room, luring them in with lustful glances. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was built to win.

His trophy shelf was overflowing, yet there was no trace of happiness in Logan’s eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Logan everyone else saw—rough around the edges, careless, chewing through women and booze as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions. Or was there something deeper, a hidden tenderness that only emerged behind closed doors? He never had family or friends over, just a revolving door of women. His life seemed lonely, private, and it made you wonder what demons gnawed at him when the nights grew quiet and the distractions faded away.

Was it trauma? 

Regret?

Or just the inevitable realization that his time was running out?

A part of you cared and wanted to be there for him, but it wasn't as simple as ringing his doorbell, he was unapproachable. During the few interactions you shared, he made it unmistakably clear that he had no interest in forming any kind of relationship with you. His responses were dry and curt, laced with a dismissive tone that cut down any hope of connection. Each word felt like a brick wall being built between you. He practically didn't look at you the entire time, keeping his eyes focused everywhere else but on yours. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with every exchange, it was as if he was purposefully keeping you at arm's length.

Through your confusion, you understood why. You weren't what he was interested in, you couldn't contribute to his unfaltering hunger. You were more than happy to not be categorized with what he'd bring home from the bar, but a slight part of you wished that for one night, you would be. 

The selections were slim in Burns and you were newer to the area, which made it impossible to call for a late-night booty call, unlike him. It had been a long time since you'd last been with someone and the constant exposure to Logan's fruitful sex life made you grow needier by the day, which is where your obsession initially formed.

It began with something small, almost too innocent to notice. You found yourself paying closer attention to his everyday routine, drawn by curiosity. You’d glance out the window to check if his motorcycle was parked in the yard, and when you heard the faint sound of his footsteps starting the day, you’d instinctively check the clock taking mental notes of his wake-up times.

Before you knew it, your interest had evolved into something deeper, something far more personal. You began noticing his trash in your shared waste bin; discarded remnants of his life blending into your obsession. At the liquor store, you found yourself buying the same brand of beer he preferred, curious to experience the taste that would linger on his lips if you kissed him. At the supermarket, you began to choose the same detergent, not for practical reasons, but to breathe in the scent that clung to his skin.

There was a day that he left his Johnny Cash shirt outside. He tossed it on the ground carelessly after working up a sweat while fixing something in the yard. When he left, you ran out and took it. As your compulsion grew, so did your need for closeness to him. The shirt became more than just a relic of him—it was a trigger. 

You began wearing it late at night, feeling its used fabric against your skin. While the sounds of him having sex filtered through the thin walls. The rhythmic creaking of his bed upstairs, the faint moans, you’d inhale it deeply, lost in his scent. You'd thrust your fingers deep inside of you, following along with his rhythm, imagining it was him inside you—picturing how Logan would take control, filling you with the intensity you longed for. In those moments, it was as if he belonged to you, even if just in fantasy.

Your cheeks flushed red as you listened along, It was become too much to handle. You unmuted your episode and got up, needing to find some distraction. 

"It’s almost over," you told yourself, trying to ignore the urge to grab his shirt and take care of things right then and there. Instead, you walked over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of your living room, hoping to find a distraction.

As you opened the cardboard, you started sifting through the mismatched stuff crammed inside. Your fingers brushed against something soft and bristly, sparking your curiosity. You tightened your grip and pulled it out for a better look. To your surprise, it was an old wig from a Halloween costume—vivid and wild, a memory you had almost forgotten.

The faint sounds you were trying so hard to ignore managed to slip through anyway, sparking a devilish idea as you twirled the wig in your hands. You were going to get his attention, whether he liked it or not. A mischievous grin spread across your face; this could be your way in. It was time to shake things up and show him a side of you he hadn’t seen yet. 

It was the next day, and you knew for sure that Logan would be at that bar, just like he was every Thursday. You stepped inside, adjusting the wig discreetly, tucking away any hint of your natural colour, determined to become someone new for the night. This was a wild idea, but desperate times called for bold measures. You were dying for some relief and he was the only remedy for this ache you couldn’t shake.

The bar buzzed with energy, a lively crowd which meant you had competition. But tonight, you were set on one thing: going home with him, and anyone else.

You’d dressed the part—skin exposed, tight-fitting clothes that hugged your curves just right, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable at the same time. 

You scanned the bar, your heart racing as you spotted him in his usual seat. The moment you walked in, his eyes locked onto you, holding your attention captive. You averted your gaze and took a shaky breath, your feet guiding you across the room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pretending not to notice his gaze, you played coy, an enticing smile dancing on your lips. You slid into the seat across from him and reached for the black menu that lay before you, feigning interest in the options. Your eyes traced the words, but your mind was elsewhere—focused on the weight of his stare and the electric tension building between you.

The bartender approached, and you quickly ordered the first thing your eyes landed on, feeling a rush of nerves. You folded the menu neatly, deliberately turning your attention to the crowd, avoiding his gaze, you weren't playing his game, you were playing yours. The thrill of the chase sent a shiver down your spine. The bar chattered around you, laughter and conversation creating a lively backdrop as you focused on maintaining an air of nonchalance, even as you could feel his eyes on you, studying you with that intensity.

A beautiful stemmed glass slid in front of you, snapping your attention to your hands. You mumbled a thankyou and you took a sip, savouring the sweet burn as it slid down your throat. It gave you a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you were about to steal a glance his way, you noticed from your peripheral that he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. That confident look told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Nice wig," he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the bar like a knife. The compliment sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you kept your expression cool, shooting him a sidelong glance as if you were just as unfazed by him.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “Just thought I’d switch things up a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. The game was on, and you were ready to play.

Logan leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It suits you, it's different.”

You felt a thrill at his words, the compliment warming you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You kept your composure, but inside, your heart raced. “I like keeping things interesting,” you replied, matching his playful tone.

The atmosphere around you shifted slightly, the crowd fading into the background as you locked eyes again. The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken possibilities. You could sense the magnetic pull between you intensifying, and it was exhilarating.

He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Well, you're doing a good job of doing that."

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence. “It's just a little bit of fun for a Thursday night. What about you? Same old routine, I bet?”

His smirk widened a glint of challenge in his eyes. “You could say that. But maybe I’m looking for something different tonight.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. You leaned forward, pushing your breasts together. “Well, that's hard to imagine. What’s your idea of different?”

 Logan’s eyes dropped to your cleavage. “How about we take this conversation somewhere a little more private?” His voice was low, rich with promise, and it sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning casualness even as your heart raced. "And where would that be?”

He chuckled softly, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “How about the upstairs at your place?”

The two of you made your way up the narrow staircase, the familiar creak of the wooden steps echoed in the silence. You could feel the heat radiating off him, each step heightening the anticipation of what was to come. You both reached his door, and his keys jingled as he unlocked it.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside as he held the door open for you. The soft light from his living room illuminated the space, casting warm shadows that danced along the walls. The place was surprisingly tidy, with the scent of cedar and booze lingering in the air.

Logan followed you in, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click that sent a thrill down your spine. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't this. You took in the details of his space—artwork hung at odd angles, a well-worn couch sat invitingly in the center, and an empty whiskey glass perched on the coffee table. It was comfortable, lived-in, and spoke to the kind of man he was.

“Nice place,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your pulse quickened as you caught the intensity of his gaze. A beat passed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful tone.

Your heart raced at the implication of his question. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you replied biting your lip,  voice steady from a boldness surging through you.

Logan smirked, his expression shifting from playful to something more primal and dark. 

“Good. Because I don’t plan on holding back. Gotta teach you a lesson after all,”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, backing you against the wall with a firm press of his body. The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt your breath hitch as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. As he grabbed your face, his calloused fingers dug into your cheeks roughly, parting your lips open.

“I know you took my shirt, you fucking freak,” he murmured, his voice thick and husky.

You were unable to form words as you felt the threat of what was to come flood your senses. Your heartbeat stammered in your rib cage, fear overcoming you but there was a thrilling undercurrent of excitement that was hard to ignore. Logan’s intense gaze held you captive, and the edge in his voice sent the tension crackling in the air between you.

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” he continued, a low chuckle escaping his lips, laced with a hint of danger. “A man owns about three good shirts and is bound to notice when one goes missing.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making your breath hitch again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve been watching me,” he stated, his voice dropping even lower. “Spying on me like some lovesick teenager. It’s cute, but it’s also… a little sick.” The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something deeper behind his fierce exterior.

You swallowed hard, the words caught in your throat. “I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted, his grip tightening around your jaw just enough to keep your attention focused on him. “Don't give me excuses. Tell me why.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. What could you possibly say that would explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had led you here? His proximity was intoxicating, and the conflict between fear and yearning made your head spin.

“I... I just wanted to understand you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hear you with the women you bring home... and I want that. ”

Logan's smile grows somehow even darker. "So ya' got all dressed up for me because you want me to fuck you like I do with the others? That right, sweetheart?" 

The only thing you could do at this moment was give him an eager nod, the ache between your legs growing shamefully larger by the second. 

“I’ll give you what you want kid', but you need to know something first.” He paused slightly, the air between you thick with tension. 

“I’m the best at what I do, and I don’t do it very nicely.”

cliff hanger I know, but i'm such a slut for teasing.

🏷️: @back2thebasics , @spookyfunhottub, @lanassmarty, @hypermarvellove, @kbear8863

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[seat-safety-switch]

Getting rid of things is harder than you'd think. Sometimes it's more work than it's worth, as it was so many years ago. When my landlord replaced the furnace in my house, he had to run a different kind of intake pipe to the other side of the basement. What did he do with the old one? Just kinda taped it up and shoved it off into the corner, as you do.

There's no reason to remove old parts from a house, really. As long as it's not getting in the way, it's less effort just to leave it alone. It's not like the house is going to the drag strip on Friday evening and has to cut out as much weight as possible. Just be chill about it, and spend the time you'd otherwise spend swearing in order to clear out five feet of unusable ceiling space watching TV.

This idea has some true merit to it. Unfortunately in my case, he forgot to remember that the other side of the intake pipe was also connected to something: the outside fucking world. Out there, it can safely be said, is Nature Herself, including many little denizens and friends. Even with the intake grate present, some of those little denizens had used the pipe to build a new home in my home.

I first noticed that I would hear an intense buzzing from time to time while throwing some old differentials in the basement storage room, where the old intake pipe runs through the ceiling. Strange, I thought. Must be the wind. Soon, it was getting louder. I noticed that the pipe was beginning to sag under some kind of weight, its outer shell deforming.

"Hmm," I thought, and hit it with a stick. Very angry buzzing happened, and the pipe began to vibrate in the ceiling. I considered hitting the pipe with the stick again, more out of an urge to confirm for myself the impending horror than anything else. My senses returning, I decided it would be best for everyone to simply leave the angry insulation-and-plastic tube full of bees alone for now.

I'm happy to announce to you that my friend, Beekeeper Bethany, dropped by to steal my tube full of bees. Did she take the tube with her? Absolutely not. That shit is too much like work. I'll probably get around to removing it one of these days, or put a cap on it or something. Winter's coming, that'll take care of the whole problem.

[drdemonprince]

If you were designing your dream public dungeon, what features and furniture would you prioritize?

I think I have moved beyond the point of desiring a public dungeon. They're usually pretty uncomfortable environments filled with straight cis white people with high-earning jobs who are completely insulated from the problems of the world and are LARPing the most middest sex possible. Generally speaking they are bad for pick-up play: you have to already have someone to bring to the spot, you can't drink or use substances at them (unless it's an especially seedy place, which has its own problems such as millipedes crawling up your vagina; shoutout Chicago Rose), and they cost as much as a gym membership in regular fees. The regulars tend to have the saddest, most toxic form of Late Onset Personality Syndrome possible and the staff bring a lingering hall monitor/dorm room RA energy that is just vile to deal with, especially if you're trans.

Even the dungeons that hold classes and events are absolutely crawling with culturally straight superfans of Polysecure and Gender Magic and shit of that ilk, who are painfully unsexy, transmisogynistic, have white woman fragility brain, and look at you aghast when you tell them about the hard core stalking play and ego death shit you're getting into on the regular. Yes, having ready access to an array of cages is fun, but beyond that I don't necessarily need a lot of bulky furniture -- four points on the ceiling and a ton of leather is plenty, and some rope/cuffs/a blindfold/a VR headset is all I really need to get fucked up off the sauce. There's plenty you can do with just, like bed restraints or a sleep sack.

Besides, why would I bother with the interpersonal wackness of Galleria Domain or the sticky floors of the Rose when I got an old man in my pocket who takes me to his basement to do this:

(photos are from this past Tuesday).

Besides, I like the privacy of fucking at home better. You can really scream and wail and play at being sexually assaulted or flip out crying when you need to and nobody's waiting to tap in or trying to talk to you about fuckin settlers of catan or whatever. And you can get locked up over night!!

[cleolinda]

I grew up in a haunted house and I didn’t notice

This is not a story about boo ghosts or shadow people. If it were, I would have figured it out, at least.

When I say "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice," you have to understand that there was a lot going on with this house. It's not the house that I've written about currently living in, the one with newspaper and soda cans stuffed where insulation should have been, the one with constant home-repair calamities. No, my childhood home was a crumbling pile of red brick built in the 1920s. Narnia was in the backyard, and the back deck was my ship on the high seas. The house was surrounded by banks of flowers, lilies and irises and roses, and it was full of creepy shit I didn’t even blink at. I loved it.

It didn't look haunted, or even particularly historical. It was almost disappointingly normal—I lived on a street with a house that had a turret, for God's sake. No, it was just old and small. There's a lot of pre-Depression houses getting torn down in these suburbs; my town has been awash in construction for the last 20-30 years as people buy up cheap old houses, raze them, and squeeze mini-mansions onto their tiny lots, all to get their kids into a good school system. It gives me a chill to think of it, but yeah, that might happen to my childhood home someday, small and plain and unassuming as it is. My pirate ship has already been renovated into an extra bedroom, the new owners told us.

When we moved into the house in 1983, though—it had clearly been renovated in the '60s or '70s; the wallpaper was hideous, and the upstairs bathroom was carpeted. Shag-carpeted. The house had closets the size of shoeboxes; my bedroom, the one with the peach wallpaper, didn't even have one. The room down the hall had four, including one cut into the wall, under a slanted ceiling tucked beneath the roof, that looked like you'd stash a witch there when the Salem HOA came by. There was a fan in the attic—well, first of all, the attic was just one more room on that upstairs floor. It was directly across from the (carpeted) bathroom, and that room (lit by one ominous, hanging bulb) was just a short corridor with storage spaces on either side, hidden behind big sliding doors. And the fan at the very end was built into the brick outer wall of the house. Like our house was functionally open to the elements, between the blades of that fan. I have no idea what the fuck anyone was thinking when they built that, and how the fuck anyone kept the wildlife out.

We certainly couldn't. Squirrels lived in the roof and bowled with acorns. It was like listening to a pinball machine at night. I have an abject horror of cockroaches because sometimes an adventurous one would fall off the ceiling in the middle night, onto me, while I was trying to sleep. (Like, try to imagine that—you’re awakened from a dead sleep by a vague, paper-light skittering sensation up and down your arm. When Pennywise comes to me, he will show up as a cockroach.) But wait! There was more! We had herds of crickets in the basement that felt compelled to jump at people. Sometimes there were centipedes! Those were polite enough to only come out at night. In the dark.

By the way, that basement was totally unfinished. I don't mean that it just had exposed beams or concrete walls. I mean that the basement had uneven, mostly shoulder-high masonry walls, and then it was just open on three sides, extending under the rest of the house. Like just dry red Alabama earth and rocks and grainy dust tumbling around in this vast, dark—it wasn't even a crawl space, a child could have stood upright in it. This child? Oh fuck no. And the washer and dryer were down there. I had to creep down there, down a rickety plank staircase, past the staring dark caverns of my own basement, through a low-lying fog of aggressive crickets, go BEHIND THE STAIRCASE, and then do my laundry there. There was also a firewood pile by an old fridge, and only God knew what was under that.

None of this was haunted. All of this was completely normal to me. This isn't even the haunted part.

So let's go back upstairs. The ground floor was lovely, homey, fine except for the time the living room ceiling fell out due to water damage. Upstairs was where it got weird. I've talked about being mildly bullied as an unknowingly autistic child; home was where I felt safe. In my bedroom upstairs, I had all those My Little Ponies and my easel with all my crayon-drawn fantasy maps and all the stories I wrote. It didn't matter if roaches fell on me in the deeps of the night; home, that's where I was happy. So when I was a young kid and I felt like a vampire was following me down the hall at night, I assumed I was just being silly.

I was aware of vampires in the 1980s as, like, the Count on Sesame Street (ah ah aaah), and Count Chocula, and Count Duckula on Nickelodeon, and the Bunnicula books that I loved. As a kid, I wasn't aware of movies like The Lost Boys or Near Dark, or any vampires that weren't broad caricatures of the Bela Lugosi look. I loved Spooky Stuff—I'm from the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark generation—but vampires didn't scare me.

But when I had to get up in the middle of the night to go down the hall to the (carpeted) bathroom, I always had the sensation that something was following me as I was going back to my room. Something Dark. Not terribly tall, maybe not even much taller than me. And somehow, I visualized this deep in my mind as a vampire. Kind of a silly one, you know, the white-tie formal wear and the ribbon medal and the cape. I wasn't desperately scared that a Chocula was behind me, but I knew that I needed to get back to my room quick, and, at all costs, I must never look back. I must never look over my shoulder or else I would See It, something silly massing in the dark—and, brother, Eurydice would have been safe with me. Never stop running, never look back.

And I'm sure all kinds of kids develop little superstitions like this. It's probably a developmental thing, like having an imaginary friend (which I also had at some point). Even as a seven year old, I was thinking, This is silly, I'm just making it up (but not looking back costs nothing. Not looking at monsters is free). And I continued to think this, until I laughingly told my younger sister this at Sunday Family Dinner one night. We were both in our thirties at that point. And my sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears. And she told me that when she had a bedroom upstairs, there was Something in there.

I won't belabor the exact setup, but at one point, we got it into our heads that we'd like to switch bedrooms, just for a change. I was 14, and I moved to her ground floor bedroom with the flowered white wallpaper and the big bright windows, and she went upstairs and took my room with the peach wallpaper and the cool slanted roof-ceiling (and no closet).

There were three other rooms on that upper floor (and I promise you this is important):

1) One was a small, windowless room that we used as a playroom, with weird cerulean blue carpet and sky blue wallpaper, one dim light fixture, and a little door in the wall that led to dark nothing. Like, you opened it, and you were confronted by a mass of pipes and machinery and just enough space to edge leftwards in the dark. Towards what? Fuck if I know, I sure as hell wasn't going in there. I think it was supposed to be for access to the HVAC system. I don't know. It was fucked. But when I was a young child, I had cooked for my baby dolls at our plastic play kitchen right next to that door, nbd, because apparently you put me in a creepy situation and I just go, yeah, we live like this now.

(I had not ever felt alone in that playroom, but I had also been too young to articulate that. Of course I wasn’t alone! I was with my dolls!)

2) The next room was the (shag-carpeted) bathroom. It had a big mirror over the sink counter, very typical, facing a vertical mirror that was behind the bathroom door. I've heard two mirrors facing each other can create a portal for the spirits, if you believe in that kind of thing. I once did the "Bloody Mary" thing there and nothing happened, idk.

3) The next room was the bedroom with four closets, where an older family member lived with us, and when she moved out, my sister moved to that room.

?) The fourth room, not really a room, was the dark, narrow attic.

So, Grownup Family Dinner at my current house, a few years ago: my sister told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her. I'm not sure if she actually said it lived in the little Hide A Witch closet or if it was just kind of... ambient. I don't know what it looked like, or if we're talking about ghosts or Something... Darker, or what. I don't think she's entirely sure herself. She doesn't like to talk about it in detail a whole lot. What I know is that she felt it was there, and she had chosen that room to sleep in as a young teenager, and not a lot of sleep was to be had.

"I never really sensed anything, like… demonic," I said, puzzled. "Just the Chocula that followed me." And my sister was like, ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF??

"What about Rebecca??" she sputtered.

Oh, yeah: Rebecca. (A name I've changed at my sister's request.) I had a friend as a teenager who liked to mess around with ouija boards (AM I LISTENING TO MYSELF?), and we did a session at her house one time wherein we discovered that the ghost of a girl? young woman? named Rebecca lived (so to speak) at my house, and she had been murdered by her boyfriend. How we arrived at these specifics, I don’t remember, but I had told my sister about it because I thought it was interesting, and also, I was kind of a shit. My friend also decided she had her own ghost named Dusty. It was all one big [citation needed, footage not found], but it was also part of our family lore.

So, many years later, my sister told me that she had long felt—without knowing about the Chocula—that there were two spirits on the upper floor of our childhood home: the dark one, and a younger, lighter one. I sat there at the kitchen table and thought about it.

"You know, I did kind of feel like there was someone up there, when I was a kid," I said. "Sometimes I would go into the attic, and it felt scary, but like there was something there watching that was okay? Like having a lamp on in a dark room, kind of. It’s weird, because it’s just a feeling, I remember it very clearly, but I didn’t really question it or wonder."

I thought a bit more.

"Oh yeah—there was also the time I just really felt compelled to go color in the playroom by myself at midnight, and it kind of felt like someone was there."

My sister stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone "go white" until that moment.

"Yeah, I just woke up and had this idea—I was maybe nine years old? That it would be super cool to do stuff at night when I was supposed to be asleep, so I got a flashlight and went into the playroom—"

"IN THE DARK??"

"Well, yeah. If I had turned on the light, someone would have seen it and told me to go back to bed. So I set this flashlight on the floor and got out the crayons and colored in one of my coloring books a while. Maybe the She-Ra one?"

Thinking back on it now—of course I was sitting right by the scary door. I think we all, you and I, saw that coming.

"And I had the same feeling I had in the attic. Like someone was sitting on the floor across from me, friendly, I guess I would say female, and it was cool. Like, it was chill."

My sister looked like she was about to pass out.

"I don’t really know how I could sense this then but not really say anything about it, or even think about it, until now," I said, shrugging. "I’m probably imagining it."

I’ll throw in here that one of the dolls I had in that room was a Raggedy Ann. Like, just for extra hilarity, Wee Cleo is hanging out, coloring, at midnight, with a ghost and a fuckin’ Annabelle.

So: My sister is adamant that our childhood home was haunted. And apparently I was entirely blasé about it (maybe possessed?), but then, I was dealing with a lot of suburban wildlife. My problems with that house were far more immediate. And crawly. Nor can we prove that the house was haunted—I certainly haven’t looked up any homicide records—and I don’t think that Vibes, In Retrospect, are valid evidence on my part. But I find it interesting that I knew what she was talking about. I find it interesting that I was like, "Yeah, that was chill." And I find it interesting that when I went away to college, and I lived in a dorm suite where sometimes I’d be the only person there while my roommates were out,

I remember noticing that it was the first time I’d ever felt alone in a room.

Who was that imaginary friend I'd had?

--

I asked my sister to read over this, partly because I wanted to see if she’d be willing to describe the Something Dark.

"Oh, I’ll tell you anything you want," she texted back, "but that’s not how it happened."

[captainjonnitkessler]

The problem. The FUCKING problem with renovations. Is that they always start off small, you know? I once tried to replace the fan in my bathroom and ended by ripping the entire bathroom down to bare studs and replacing literally everything in it.

Take my washing machine, for instance. I want to move it twenty feet over to create a little laundry area in the basement. I'll have to reroute some plumbing, nothing too onerous. Except.

The concrete floor in the new area is a disaster. Last guy painted it with the wrong paint, it's scratched and marred and stained, it has to go. No problem! You can rent concrete grinders from Home Depot, grinding and repainting should take less than a week if I'm being lazy about it. Except . . .

Now that everything is moved out of the way for the grinding, I'm thinking about the lally pole that supports the main beam of the house. It's right in front of the basement door and makes it really hard to move things in and out of the basement. If I could move it over just three feet that problem would be solved. But even if a structural engineer signs off on that, I'll have to cut up the floor to remove it, which of course will delay the grinding and painting. No problem! I can spend that time painting the ceiling (it's too low to put in a drop ceiling, but if you paint the ceiling and everything in it one color it has a great effect). Except . . .

If I'm going to paint the ceiling I need to pull down all the gross, mouse-infested insulation from the rim joists and replace it with foam board insulation, which will also hopefully help with the severe pillbug infestation we have down there.

Except, as I'm up there pulling down the insulation, I can't help but notice how awful the romex wiring is. Just wires absolutely everywhere, they look like shit in a way that a coat of paint won't hide. Not to mention that my electrical panel is overflowing with romex. Surely, surely it would be easier and neater to just put up a few runs of nice clean conduit, and re-wire that half of the house while I'm at it so the breakers in the kitchen quit tripping.

And that's how moving a washing machine twenty feet ends up taking three years and thousands of dollars.

[swaglet]

yap post about architecture and climate. maybe you'll find it interesting

that post about architecture becoming homogenous across the world is true but it doesn't even mention how DANGEROUS something like that can be. like. humans started building permanent settlements depending on wherever their group ended up, and their individual climate determined what materials they built their shelters out of, how high off the ground/how deep they built them, how far from shore they built them, etc..... like. i'm not an architect i know next to nothing about architecture but you know what pisses me off? brick houses with asphalt or clay tile shingle roofs and a basement with solid brick foundation walls are the ultimate superior option where i live for climate control reasons. they are more resilient to tornadoes (especially the debris being flung around by the tornado so they're less likely to collapse from the debris), the inside of your house is kept cool during hot summer temperatures especially if you have trees and plants for shade outside your home above your roof, the inside stays warm when you heat it up and the heat doesn't readily escape through the brick walls or the roof tiles during the cold extended winter months, and you can open up the windows as you please during spring and fall because it's usually room temperature outside for most of those seasons anyway and then you can save on the heating/cooling bill and all that. like literally all year round. especially if you have a fireplace and a little bit of insulation in all your walls and the roof, you literally will have no heat escape and you won't even need to turn your heater on. the clay/asphalt roof tiles with any type of insulation under them make it so that your roof won't collapse if there's a ton of snow sitting on top of it even for weeks on end. both the material of the shingles and the insulation will stop the cold from seeping in and it'll stay warm even though there's like a foot of snow on your roof. we have asphalt tile shingles that have not been replaced or even touched in 20 years since this house was built and there has never been a single leak of water into this house from the ceiling and by god does it rain something fierce here. there have been tree limbs and rocks and shit flung at the roof during small tornadoes and the worst thing that happened was a few tiles got dislodged and we put them back up after the storm was over.

this is an extremely wooded area. pennsylvania is literally means "Penn's forest country" we are THE state for timber and wood and whatnot. if a tree were to fall on your brick house with clay/asphalt shingles after it was blown over or struck by lightning in a storm, it has a lot better of a chance of staying intact than a flimsy wooden beam house with a thin metal sheet for a roof and some more wooden beams underneath it. your plastic siding panels made to look like wood are all going to crack and crumble and like. explode. the moment that tree hits your house. that tree is coming into your living room. if lightning strikes your house, or your porch, or anything near your house like a tree or your garage or anything flammable, your house could be engulfed in flames and you will burn to death. that literally happened here not even a year ago btw. there was a really bad storm and lightning struck a tree in someone's backyard and the tree caught fire and it eventually fell and crashed through their porch and lit their whole house on fire and to add salt to the wound it landed on their power box outside their house so it exploded everything inside so all their wires caught fire as well and everyone except a little girl died because it happened in the middle of the night. brick houses are fire resistant and so are clay&asphalt tiles and that was a freak ass accident and since the flaming tree hit their power box they probably still would have been fucked anyway if they didn't have a cheap ass modern infrastructure fuck ass house but maybe stuff like that would happen less if we paid attention to what our climates are like and what materials are best for our area........... rip to that family i drive past the lot that their house was on almost everyday and think about them

Idk i rant about this shit all the time to my boyfriend like. i wish the housing market (and the market in general) wasn't absolutely diabolical right now because i genuinely want to build a small little cozy house sims-style someday, from scratch, that is entirely based on the climate and weather of where i live and make it as power efficient and safe as possible. Does anyone else ever think about this stuff

Like. Why the hell are all the houses being built nowadays all made with fugly ass metal roofs and shitty ugly fake wooden panel siding on the outside. So inefficient, so useless, so swagless. What is the purpose. We added an extension to our garage recently and metal roofing was the only affordable option and if you step inside that part of the garage it boils you alive in the summer if it's hot out. i CANNOT imagine that shit on top of my real life actual house

[kenmarbasementsystems]

Basement Ceiling Insulation

Here at Kenmar Basement Systems, they offer a variety of options for insulating your foundation. All of the insulation products they install are designed to withstand water and moisture and provide you with greater comfort from the ground up. For more, please see the website https://kenmarbasementsystems.com/city/sudbury/service/basement-and-crawlspace-insulation

[takami-takami]

Vent post. Untagged. Like, REALLY untagged. This isn't a fun post so it's totally fine to skip. This is literally a trauma dump in every sense of the word.

I feel the need to vomit. I feel as though this feeling is making me lightheaded and I feel the need to physically vomit. I am in a spiral— kind of, mental, I don't want to type that. I don't feel very good. I don't feel good at all.

It really hurts. Like it genuinely really hurts how I want to speak on it or talk on it and then the bile rises. I feel the need to vomit. I'm not having an anxiety attack or anything. I just am.

It hurts feeling like you're not allowed to be upset about the things that happened to you. Even when the reality is so grim and obviously bad. Things like torture, things that caused many a breakdown.

I never out myself back together after the possibky psychotic breaks he caused. I never stopped. I still remember screaming at the bee, and sobbing outside, and digging up worms, and holding them in a jar.

A fly fell from the ceiling as I washed my hands today. It landed on my hands like confetti and I washed it away down the drain. And I remember how many thousands of them lined the walls of the old house. And I remember when my parents made me put my forehead on the cockroach-smeared wall.

I remember how he tried to kill himself in front of me and gleefully explained what my life would be like post grief and how happy he was that that I would know it's my fault for being bad (not cleaning properly). I remember how he forced me to [redacted] as punishment for trying to stop him from beating my siblings. Psychological torture. I remember the torture.

How am I supposed to do anything. And all the while their words keep ringing in my head, the invalidation woven into my fucking brain constantly the way he'd mock and laugh at me. I remember the look of glee on his face, I remember the way he moaned my name to mock me for being upset about him threatening to rape me.

What am I supposed to do. When i still live with this person. I hope to one day explode into confetti. I hope to one day get rid of all the rage and confusion in my . I don't want to type the words.

I don't feel good. I don't fucking feel good. I don't ever feel good and I know outside is beautiful. White clouds, fog, metal pipe curved like a cane above green tile rooftop outside my window. There are birds that nest there and they look like finches. And they carry straw, and I used to give them Mogwai's fur sheddings because prey animals love rabbit fur as insulation for their nests. Those birds have died and new birds have taken their place, Mogwai has died and I put his bed in a bag in the basement after his deathiversary last month.

[saccharinekat]

Hey sis im gonna need you to elaborate on the jeep that drove into your bedroom

Hihi benson!!!! Hugging you so much btw. So. Last year a new driver learning to drive with her dad drove into the side of our house in a jeep and hit the basement window of the guest bedroom thats down there and broke the top of the basement wall mildly bad (cracked the concrete foundation wall but it's been checked and it's safe to live here dw) so we had to tear down the drywall and the ceiling to get to the concrete wall so there's a shit ton of exposed insulation and the breaker box needs replacing (BUT ITS SAFE DONT WORRY). I've been sleeping there for two weeks or so because we were painting my room after three years of preparing for it on and off and like dont worry about why its been two weeks SHIT KEEPS HAPPENING TO ME ok. Often very lesbian shit. Anyway this room is what I've been calling the loser butch hovel because I have been the saddest wettest loser butch you've ever seen for a few days weeks months (I'm ok dw) and it's my hovel rn.

Anyway I had a really fucking pretty girl over this weekend who drove 11 hours to see me and is currently on her way back (crying sobbing throwing up) sleep in that bed with me under exposed insulation for two nights. My ability to pull bitches is unmatched. It's my sad wet cat energy I think.

[staticspaces]

Hoarding Issues

You can also find the detailed walkthrough here!!

Moving downstairs we now get to see the disaster that was taking place on the main floor along with a look at the basement!!

This week we get to explore an extreme hoarding situation. It appears as though the house has been abandoned for about 13 years since the latest date I could find was from 2011. The large home has not faired well during that time suffering from water damage due to a failing roof. The ceiling has completely collapsed in the master bedroom and insulation covers everything in the room. All of the personal belongings have been strewn about the house including boxes that used to be full of stuff. There was broken glass hidden beneath that clutter everywhere you walked making for a treacherous environment.

I was not able to find much definitive information about the previous owners other than a man who lived in the house was born in 1943 and presumably his wife who was born in 1961 in Hong Kong.

There is a rumour that both the husband and wife were doctors and the husband had their license revoked for a short period before he would later resign from his practice. The wife had continued to work in the field. I was not able to find any evidence of this in my research. However, I did learn that the husband worked as an airport supervisor from paperwork found in the home.

As for the reason why the house was abandoned, that we may never know but in situations like this, it is entirely possible that one or both of owners passed away.

Seeing the condition of this home, it could certainly be saved if someone wealthy had a lot of money to sink into the project but the reality is, with the extensive damage the building has received, it will likely be demolished in the future.

[techmomma]

With weather getting colder than your local infrastructure was really meant to handle, there's going to be more pipes freezing and bursting as time goes on. So from the front desk of a mitigation company:

Find out how to turn off the water in your house in case a pipe bursts and floods.

If you live in an apartment or multi-housing building, you will probably need your landlord or property manager's help, if you can do it at all (they will probably have to do it for you). Find the best number to call if something happens say, in the middle of the night, if something happens.

For the rest of you, you'll need to find the main water valve. Sometimes it's not even inside your house! Sometimes you have to go all the way to the street to find the little hidden box that contains the main water shut-off! And if you think you know but aren't sure, run a test! (Obviously coordinate with whoever owns the building if that's not you.)

The easiest way to keep a single-room flood from turning into a whole-housing flood is to turn off the water as fast as humanely possible. Even just a minute can make a difference when a pipe bursts!

By the time a home is hitting about 20 years old, you should be really starting to prepare for pipes breaking. The longer they go without breaking, the more likely it is every year that something will go wrong. Note the places you can see pipes or are certain pipes are, such as under your sink, behind the toilet, behind the refrigerator and washing machines, etc., and try to make game plans for if something goes wrong with each one. If any of those are on floors above ground level (or a basement), those repairs get even more costly because that damages both the floor and the ceiling below it-and could mean having to remove everything between the two layers, like subflooring and insulation because if insulation gets wet, it gets moldy.

Our company literally just had a job earlier today involving a poor distraught woman who couldn't do anything as her basement flooded with 2 inches of water because she had no idea where the water shut-off valve was; her husband had always taken care of things like that, and her husband passed away two years ago, and she never learned where the shut-off was. She had to call the fire department to help her out, because in addition to the water, her basement was full of electronic things and outlets, meaning it was an electrical hazard down there that only the fire department could even take care of. Even stepping foot in the basement to help her out could have risked the safety of our own guys.

Knowledge is power. Weather is getting more dangerous, so understanding the building you live in is going to be more crucial these days. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best!

[kimberly40]

The modern air conditioner was invented only in the 1920’s and it didn’t become a common home feature until the latter half of the 20th century. But, while some of us might wonder how our grandparents survived hot and steamy summers, the fact is those older homes had a few tricks up their sleeves. They were designed and built with features to help them stay cool without AC.

Airflow: In northern states, it was common to create a “stack effect” by opening windows in the basement and top floor. This generated a cool breeze through the house. Further south, before AC many homes were built on blocks, allowing breezes to flow underneath and help keep them cool all summer long.

Tall ceilings: Ceilings as high as 10, 12 and even 14 feet were common in older homes. As heat rose to the ceiling, lower areas stayed cool and comfortable. Ceiling fans—powered by electricity or elaborate rope systems—also facilitated air movement.

Transoms: A transom—a small window over a door—allowed warmer air at the ceiling to circulate up to higher floors, providing more air movement throughout the house. Transoms over exterior doors often had hinges and special hardware. This allowed easy access to open and close, helping create airflow while still providing security.

Large windows: Many older and historic homes had large, double-hung windows. Opening the top sash would allow hot air near the ceiling to escape. Opening the bottom sash, especially at night, allowed cool air to flow inside. Rooms had many windows, some as large as doors. Thick, long draperies were often used in these large windows to keep out the heat. People would “draw the drapes” to help keep a room cool without sacrificing light.

Porches: Wraparound porches offered shade from the direct sun while still allowing light to pour through windows. Screened and furnished sleeping porches were also very common. People would sleep outside to catch the cool breeze of the summer night without all the bugs. Many believed that fresh air had health benefits.

Reflective roofs: Many older homes had light-colored or silver-metal roofs made of lead, tin or copper. This was a great way to reflect heat away from the home to reduce interior temperatures. It’s quite a contrast to today’s dark asphalt shingles that can absorb a lot of the sun’s rays.

Thick walls: If you could afford them, thick brick masonry or stone walls were a great insulator and kept homes cool before AC. Walls 12 to 24 inches thick were common in the Deep South, blocking the heat from the inside as the day wore on, and providing some warmth as the evening chill set in.

[joissyconstruction]

What are the Basic Steps involved in House Construction?

House construction is a big process. It involves many steps and requires careful planning. Building a house is more than just putting up walls and a roof. It is about creating a safe and comfortable space. A strong foundation is crucial for sturdy house construction. Let’s learn about the basic steps involved in building a house.

Planning is Key

The first step in house construction is planning. This involves creating a design for the house. Architects and designers help with this. They make sure the house will be functional and attractive. Planning also includes setting a budget. Knowing how much money you can spend is important. It helps avoid overspending during construction.

Getting Permits

Before House Construction can start, you need permits. These are legal documents from local authorities. Permits ensure that the construction meets safety standards. Without them, you might have to stop construction or pay fines. It’s important to get all the necessary permits before beginning.

Preparing the Site

After planning and permits, the construction site needs to be prepared. This involves clearing the land and removing trees, rocks, and debris. The ground is then leveled, providing a solid foundation for the house.

Laying the Foundation

The foundation is the base of the house. It supports the entire structure. Different types of foundations exist, such as slabs, crawl spaces, and basements. The choice depends on the soil type and climate. A strong foundation is crucial for a sturdy house.

Building the Frame

Once the foundation is ready, the frame is built. This is like the skeleton of the house. It gives the house its shape and supports the roof and walls. The frame is usually made of wood or steel. It is important to make sure the frame is strong and well-built.

Installing the Roof

The roof comes next. It protects the house from weather elements. There are different types of roofs, such as flat, gable, and hip. The choice of roof depends on the house design and local climate. Proper roof installation is important to prevent leaks and other issues.

Adding Windows and Doors

Windows and doors are then installed. They allow light and air into the house. They also provide security and privacy. The placement of windows and doors is carefully planned. This ensures good ventilation and natural lighting.

Electrical and Plumbing Work

After the roof and windows, electrical and plumbing systems are installed. These are the house's vital systems. Electricians run wires for lights and outlets. Plumbers install pipes for water and sewage. Proper installation is crucial for safety and functionality.

Insulation and Drywall

Next, insulation is added. Insulation keeps the house warm in winter and cool in summer and helps reduce noise. After insulation, drywall is installed on the walls and ceilings. Drywall creates smooth surfaces for painting and finishing.

Finishing Touches

The final stage of house construction involves finishing touches. This includes painting walls, installing flooring, and adding fixtures. Cabinets, countertops, and appliances are also installed. These elements make the house livable and add style.

Final Inspection

A final inspection is conducted before moving in. Inspectors check that everything meets building codes and ensure that the house is safe and ready for occupancy. Passing the final inspection is a crucial step in house construction.

Moving In

Once the house passes inspection, it’s time to move in. This is the most exciting part of house construction. It marks the end of a long process. A well-constructed house provides comfort and security for years to come.

Conclusion

House construction is a complex process. It requires careful planning and skilled work. Each step is important for building a safe and comfortable home. Whether it’s planning, framing, or finishing, every detail matters. Understanding these House Construction steps can help make the process smoother and more enjoyable.

[flock-talk]

22 days in and it’s just starting to look like a room again. Things are having to be done in a very strange order because of Newt, lots of things we can’t do with him in the home so we have to postpone things until it’s warm enough for someone to sit outside with him in a carrier while we finish and vent the house of non-bird-safe-things. So it’s a little patchy and weird.

Here’s what we’ve done so far:

Demolished the room, found the drywall was not correct for a basement and had water damage, some electrical was sketchy, the insulation was barely existent, and many many bits of framework were either crooked or not attached to anything

Fixed the electrical, most of the framing, reinsulated everything with moisture resistant extra toasty warm n thick insulation (this is the warmest room in the house now and it still doesn’t have a floor yet!), moisture barrier and proper moisture resistant drywall. Everything is extra moisture resistant because yes it’s a basement but also because parrot ideal humidity levels

Scraped away the popcorn ceiling and puttied it as flat as we could, still needs paint/ moisture resistance

Removed the doorframe and assembled one *aesthetic* wall, it just needs to be sealed, corners protected and the door painted

Made a window frame which will line up to get light from the window in the next room over for natural day/night cycles and toasty perching spots

To do:

Rest of the drywall, frame + putty work(today!)

Paint the archway, ceiling, and door(s)

Make the door/mesh entrance

Rotating feeder bowl installation (en route)

Flooring/ ground insulation

Finishing (aesthetic panels, fake stone panels, fake plant panels, outlets + covers)

Memorial spot/ exterior archway

Setup