What I keep in my dungeon

Four summers ago, when OfSnough and I were house hunting, we toured a pretty miserable place with our realtor.  As we all came out, shaking our heads "no", the realtor reminded us there was another house just around the corner that had just come on the market that morning, so we walked over.

We weren't the only people with that idea, and there were already a couple of other families wandering around on the front porch and in the living room, so we decided to enter the basement instead, and start our tour down there.  

And the basement was everything we wanted.  That sounds like a strange thing to have strong opinions about, but because we do so much bicycling, we knew we really wanted a city home that had a way to bring bikes in and out easily -- and that's a tricky requirement for most of our stair-intensive row-houses.  So, when we saw that the basement had a cool side entrance that led into a room large enough to store a half-dozen bikes, our antennas were buzzing.  Better yet, that side entrance door had a dog door installed (yes, we want a dog door in the basement, please!). And then, beyond the room we were already thinking of as "the bike room", there was a workbench where I could put my tools (workshop space!).  And then there were shelves that were just screaming "canning supplies" (can this be real?!?).  And a laundry space for my husband (whoop!). The basement was amazing.  

When we went upstairs, we discovered the rest of the house was nice, too. (Maybe even too nice, in fact -- we'd thought about trying to buy a fixer-upper, but the place was in great shape).  So we put in an offer that very day.  The market was hot; we were one of four offers, and we were delighted that ours was the one that went through.  

But back to the basement.  There's one odd little room in the basement with its own door; it's tucked away under the front porch, so it gets a tad chilly in the winter and warm in the summer.  Even if it were closer to the kitchen (and it's not -- it's at the farthest point in our long basement from the kitchen stairs), the temperatures wouldn't be suitable for canning supplies or food storage.  So right now it's just a catch-all kind of a space. 

Cardboard boxes that will soon get recycled.

For a little while, it held Nelson's drum set, and he'd come practice making noise in that space.  (Good noise, mind you; he's a good drummer!).  But he's in Minnesota now, so other stuff has found its way into the space instead.

A shelf full of stuff that will go to a yard sale.

Because the walls are bare brick and stone, we call this little "L"-shaped space "The Dungeon".  In fact, I even made a label for it that says "Dungeon".  Because I label things, that's why.  

It's labeled, so it must be:  "Dungeon"

Also, we happen to have a broad sword and battle axe, back from the days when we used to have season passes to the Renaissance Faire.  And the sword and axe seem to be appropriate things to keep in a dungeon, don't they?

The sword and axe . . . 
and can you see the new guest tucked away there?

So, that's why I'm just so tickled about bringing home a suit of armor!  (I need to give this guy a name . . . hmm. . . )  

Where does a person get a suit of armor, you wonder?   My church dragged it out of an attic that had stored up a bunch of Youth Group supplies, and asked if anyone wanted to take it home.  Apparently, I'm the only one in our church with a dungeon, so I volunteered.

Our dungeon's newest inhabitant.

Now I have to fund a name for this suit of armor.   I've tried a couple of quirky things in my head, but nothing sticks yet.  More later, I'm sure!