It’s finally raining in LA, so I finally know there’s a leak in my 100 year old house.
It’s in a downstairs bathroom, but there’s roof above, not the second floor, so maybe I can find the leak in the attic. I can access it through the hole I uncovered when I ripped out the paneling in the master bedroom.
Ok – knee pads, flashlight, camera. I’m going in.
My last selfie?
Hooray! Knob and tube. Museum quality.
“Mike, Debbie, Terry (Karen), Cheryl (DiDi), Chuckie, Kevin, Holly, Gloria, Butch, Chery McDowell” 100 year old hit list falls apart in my hands.
So many hornets.
The great thing about a flashlight is the utter darkness beyond its beam.
Original kitchen ceiling.
Wooden kitchen exhaust vent (closed at both ends).
I seriously hope that’s the rain tapping (Battery. Getting. Low.)
Gazing out into another world.
Whoever had the idea for this hole had shoulders smaller than mine.
Could be emerging from the wall in *your* bedroom.
(never did find the leak)