Life Among The Ruins Deux

I should explain the title: Life Among the Ruins. I live in a big old 19th century house. It's somewhat dilapidated and not unlike the building Mary Hatch and George Bailey chuck stones at in "It's a Wonderful Life", (since they eventually move into the same building, one is reminded of the saying about not pooing where you eat). Big old houses make strange creepy noises at all hours. The sad thing is that most of these noises are coming out of me. Toes curl, knees crack, eyeballs click, elbows snap. In my mind I'm eighteen then I look in the mirror and scream OMG, what have you done w/Jennifer you crazy haired hag?! Bring her back unharmed and I promise I won't go to the authorities. So you see, the house is a macrocosm of myself.

Well I'm off to shovel snow in order to emancipate my mailbox.