If you visited my house right now you'd be surprised to see...

A five-gallon glass jug full of pinkish-red fluid on a kitchen counter.

A goat skull on the mantel.

A mummy leaning in a corner. (Actually, the mummy is leaning in a corner of the garage right now, so they might not see it.)

A human skull. Plastic, but anatomically correct.

A litter box, full of litter but unused. I don’t own a cat. (Recently I borrowed one, though. I was hoping to introduce it to some smaller, squeakier pets. It seems a shame to throw away perfectly good kitty litter.)

Seven clocks, most of them unusual in some way. You can tell the time from anywhere in my apartment.

My son having a screaming fit just outside my door.

(may not actually qualify as a surprise)

Kitty litter is great for getting your car unstuck from snow if you are in that sort of climate.

Not unusual for us: but syringes. Our daughter is a type 1 diabetic.

Unused monitors and computers in the kitchen and living room. We have a family of geeks.

The fridge in my bedroom. It’s got my tv, vcr, dvd player in it. In the living room, I guess the cot and cat playground with plastic risers on them. Sooner or later I’m going to get out my toys and display them on them.

In the kitchen, on a plate lies the cooked human brain #1 son has prepared…

For a project in AP Psych. The “brains” are made of homemade playdough, baked, cooled and then demarcated with the different areas of the brain in different color markers. Hippocampus, temporal lobes, brainstem etc.

You might be surprised to walk around my house and not encounter any cordless phones, or even any touch-tone phones. I loathe cordless phones, and all but one of my home phones is rotary dial. There is one touch-tone phone upstairs in the office as a concession to the dial-a-pill pharmacy refill system or the odd time that I need to call a company with a menu.

We have two bags of grass, 75 pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers . . . and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls.

We also have a nice cat.

Seeing as we’re both barely 30, people usually comment on the surprisingly large number of gallery-quality art on our walls. Our living room alone contains four large canvases, which is more than most of our age-mates have in their entire home.

You see, The Boy acquired most of his collection from classmates in university (he majored in Fine Arts & Art History), and my mother is in the habit of bringing back paintings or prints for me when she travels. In fact, we have too much art… there are a handful of pieces that I still haven’t found the right spot for.

The ugliest fuckin’ curtains you ever seen in your life.

The full-size mattress and box-spring, on their side, in the dining room. Covered with a tarp, of course.

Bedroom #1 is in the long, slow process of being re-painted.

I will go insane if I don’t finish it soon. I don’t mind the painting. It’s the prep that I hate. And the baseboards and floor are requiring way too much prep.

The place is tidier than usual (yay for kids doing chores!) and my lovely cornbread I made kind of fell. It will still taste good though.

Almost none of our possessions except for personal items.

My stuff is being stored. I miss it. Especially my good knives and our desktop computer. We’re moving and in temporary housing. (Until the end of the week–we found a cute townhouse in West Seattle right in our price range! I’m so damn tired of the noise of downtown. I wanna go home.)

Hmm. Aside from three laptops and one desktop all lying around, I suspect the most surprising thing might be the coffee table that’s the centerpiece of the living room.

It’s made of roughly three inch thick planks of some very hard (and weathered) wood. I’m told it used to be a boat hatch cover in its previous incarnation – it still has metal ties sunk into hemispherical pits, and metal banding on the ends.

Green 70’s era deep shag carpet, along with the related fake wood panelling on EVERY WALL SURFACE IN THE HOUSE, save in the rooms we’ve already redone.

I hate that carpet like old people hate minorities.

The first thing everyone says when visiting my place:

“Wow!* You’ve got a lot of books!”

I have a lot of books.

*Actual interjection varies by individual: “Damn!” “Holy shit!” “OmaGAWD!” “¡Dios mío!”, etc.

In our case, the visitor would be surprised at the lack of books. Among our friends, the library of my wife and I is legendary. Every room in the house has shelves that are full of books–or it did, until we decided to move and in an effort to “unclutter” to impress potential home buyers, packed up and stored all our books and bookshelves. Our house looks so empty and soulless now. :frowning:

my purple wig (worn at Dragon*Con) hanging from my dresser mirror.

Oh, and do me a favor - don’t open the drawer to my nightstand - okay? My mom still claims I’m a good girl.

See you Friday? To . . . umm . . . say “hello” to your nice cat! Yeah, that’s it, that’s the ticket.

Along the lines of Athena (in both the surprise and the reason for surprise), I have a wood figurine of St Francis of Assisi watching over my living room.