Sweet Baby Cheeses, We Found the Hidden Madonna

I realize that my mother is probably going to kill me and I’m probably going to hell courtesy of that title. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Whatever.

So, a couple months ago, I told you about the random shit that was left in our house by the previous owners. As we started settling into the house, we began discovering more little things that the former owners left for us.

Heading down into the basement, Brian found this little log cabin hidden under the stairs. It was kind of cute, and he told me to pick it up. I reached for it and discovered little baggies of stuff beside it.

Log Cabin Incense Burner

Would you have spotted that right away?

My first thought and question for Brian?

Log Cabin Incense

“Weed?”

I’m pretty sure he physically face palmed. “No, it’s for incense!” He was really excited about it. You burn the incense inside the log cabin and the smoke comes out the little chimney. The baggie was full of incense stuff.

“Oh.”

Definitely less interesting.

Another, more interesting, and definitely more random little nugget of awesomely weird that we (okay fine, our friend whose name is also Brian) found was hidden in the rafters of our basement.

 

Meet Madonna

Meet Madonna

I don’t know how. I don’t know why. I certainly don’t know when…but this happened. In our house. Long before it was our house. Someone sketched a permanent marker Madonna in our home. And because it’s not quite clear that it’s Madonna, he or she politely labeled it for us.

It makes me wonder if there were teenagers living here in the 90’s. And what kind of people they were. And if the parents ever found out that the kids did this…or worse – if one of the adults did this little artistic piece for their own jollies. The handwriting (based on my very scientific teaching skills) looks like middle school or early high school writing…but what do I know? My chicken scratch looks a little like that sometimes…and it is practically on the ceiling…So there’s that.

Either way, I’m having a lot of fun imagining stories in my head of the possible family that lived here before us.

Have you left your mark on your home? Have you discovered someone else’s mark left on your home? Even better – if you decide to, what would you do to represent yourself in a place that you may not live in forever?

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