FOUND IN A BEDROOM OF THE 100 YR OLD HOUSE I JUST MOVED INTO, WHAT CAN IT BE FOR?

House built in 1916–on the other side of this wall is what used to be a “sewing room”, according to my landlord. the house has about eight bedrooms and was definitely tricked tf out for it’s time period. i can enter the sewing room on the other side, and i’ve looked all around on the floor, where i believe the door would open up to..

but can’t find the backside of the tiny door! it’s painted over, and feels very secure- almost locked. this house has a complex laundry chute system but this seems way too small to be a part of it.

This room clearly was built as a bedroom, as there is a bathroom and a closet, neither of which are near this bizarre little architectural feature.

Some of the answers:
         

What do you think it can be for? Leave a comment at our facebook post!

Nestled within the historic Spruce Hill neighborhood of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, stands a testament to timeless elegance and architectural ingenuity: the Victorian masterpiece crafted by the renowned architect George Hewitt. This majestic residence, steeped in rich history and adorned with intricate details, serves as both a beacon of Victorian charm and a symbol of the neighborhood’s enduring allure.

George Hewitt, a prominent figure in 19th-century American architecture, left an indelible mark on Philadelphia’s landscape with his distinctively designed homes. His keen eye for detail and commitment to craftsmanship are exemplified in this particular gem located in Spruce Hill. Constructed during the height of the Victorian era, this residence stands as a testament to the opulence and sophistication of the time.

From the moment one sets eyes on the exterior façade, it becomes evident that this home is a work of art. Elaborate trimmings, ornate gables, and a meticulously crafted porch invite visitors to step back in time and immerse themselves in the grandeur of the Victorian era. The intricate woodwork, often referred to as “gingerbread,” adorns the exterior, adding a whimsical charm that is quintessentially Victorian.

Upon entering the home, guests are greeted by an interior that seamlessly blends classic elegance with modern comfort. High ceilings, intricate moldings, and stained glass windows evoke a sense of grandeur, while carefully curated furnishings and decor infuse warmth and character into each room. From the ornate parlor to the cozy sitting rooms, every space exudes a unique charm that reflects the owner’s dedication to preserving the home’s historical integrity.

Grand Historical Victorian in Philadelphia Photo 1

One of the most striking features of this Victorian masterpiece is its attention to detail. From the hand-carved banisters to the intricate tile work, every element has been meticulously crafted to perfection. The spacious rooms are flooded with natural light, creating an inviting atmosphere that is both elegant and welcoming.

Beyond its architectural splendor, this home holds a special place in the heart of the Spruce Hill community. As one of the neighborhood’s most iconic landmarks, it serves as a focal point for residents and visitors alike, inspiring a sense of pride and admiration for the area’s rich heritage.

In addition to its aesthetic appeal, the George Hewitt-designed Victorian in Spruce Hill stands as a testament to the enduring legacy of its creator. George Hewitt’s contributions to Philadelphia’s architectural landscape continue to be celebrated and revered, with many of his designs still standing as cherished landmarks throughout the city.

As the sun sets on another day in Spruce Hill, the glow emanating from this Victorian masterpiece serves as a reminder of a bygone era—one defined by elegance, craftsmanship, and a commitment to beauty that transcends time. In a world where change is constant, this architectural gem stands as a beacon of stability, offering a glimpse into the past while serving as a cornerstone for the future of the neighborhood. George Hewitt’s legacy lives on, embodied in every intricate detail of this timeless treasure.

Ball Mansion - Lost In The States

Nestled in the heart of Lafayette, Tippecanoe County, Indiana, stands a beacon of architectural splendor and historical significance—the Judge Cyrus Ball House. Also affectionately known as the Ball Mansion and Carriage House, this magnificent estate is a testament to the enduring charm and grace of the Second Empire style.

Built in 1868–1869, the Judge Cyrus Ball House is more than just a dwelling; it is a living relic of a bygone era. As one steps through its grand entrance, they are transported back in time to an era of opulence and refinement. The two-story brick façade, adorned with intricate wood and stone detailing, stands as a testament to the craftsmanship and artistry of its creators.

One cannot help but be captivated by the imposing three-story mansard roofed entrance tower, which serves as a majestic focal point of the estate. Rising proudly against the Indiana skyline, it exudes an air of regal sophistication, inviting visitors to explore the wonders that lie within.

A look inside the historic Ball home on Ninth Street Hill

The Judge Cyrus Ball House sits atop a sturdy limestone foundation, symbolizing the enduring strength and resilience of its legacy. Its slate roof, weathered by the passage of time, whispers tales of generations past, while standing as a testament to the enduring spirit of the home.

As one wanders through the property, they are greeted by the charming two-story carriage house, a contributing structure that adds to the estate’s allure and character. Standing in quiet reverence beside the main dwelling, it serves as a reminder of the days when horse-drawn carriages graced its halls, transporting guests to and from their destinations in style.

But perhaps the true beauty of the Judge Cyrus Ball House lies not only in its architectural grandeur, but in the stories it holds within its walls. From its days as the residence of Judge Cyrus Ball to its role as a cherished landmark in the Lafayette community, this historic home bears witness to the rich tapestry of history woven into the fabric of Indiana.

In conclusion, the Judge Cyrus Ball House is more than just a house; it is a living testament to the enduring legacy of Tippecanoe County, Indiana. From its majestic architecture to its storied past, this historic estate continues to captivate the imagination and inspire awe in all who have the privilege of experiencing its timeless elegance.

Nestled amidst the serene landscapes the Old Hickory – F. W. Knox Villa stands as a beacon of elegance and historical significance. With its rich heritage, this architectural masterpiece captivates visitors with its timeless charm and refined craftsmanship. Originally conceived as the private residence, the Old Hickory Villa exudes an air of grandeur and sophistication from the moment one sets eyes upon its majestic facade.

Designed with meticulous attention to detail by renowned architects of the era, every aspect of this stately home speaks volumes about the opulent lifestyle of its original inhabitants. As one steps through the ornate entranceway, they are transported back in time to an era of unparalleled luxury and refinement.

From the grand foyer adorned with intricate woodwork to the expansive living spaces adorned with lavish furnishings, each room tells a story of wealth and privilege, offering a glimpse into the lives of those who once called this estate home.

Beyond its architectural splendor, the Old Hickory Villa boasts a rich history that adds to its allure. From hosting lavish social gatherings to serving as a backdrop for significant cultural events, this historic residence has played a central role in shaping the fabric’s community over the years. Today, the Old Hickory Villa stands as a cherished landmark, lovingly preserved for future generations to enjoy. Whether admiring its stunning architecture, exploring its meticulously landscaped grounds, or simply soaking in the tranquil ambiance, visitors are sure to be captivated by the timeless beauty of this extraordinary estate.

As we celebrate the legacy of the Old Hickory – F. W. Knox Villa, let us pause to appreciate the enduring allure of historic preservation. In a world where progress often comes at the expense of our past, places like this serve as reminders of the importance of honoring our heritage and preserving the treasures that make our communities truly special. So, come and experience the magic of Old Hickory – F. W. Knox Villa for yourself. Step back in time and immerse yourself in a world of elegance, sophistication, and timeless beauty. It’s a journey you won’t soon forget.

As we celebrate the legacy of the Old Hickory – F. W. Knox Villa, let us pause to appreciate the enduring allure of historic preservation. In a world where progress often comes at the expense of our past, places like this serve as reminders of the importance of honoring our heritage and preserving the treasures that make our communities truly special. So, come and experience the magic of Old Hickory – F. W. Knox Villa for yourself. Step back in time and immerse yourself in a world of elegance, sophistication, and timeless beauty. It’s a journey you won’t soon forget.

A woman ruined an 8-hour flight for fellow travelers – Following the journey, the captain took steps to address her behavior

When James is on his way home after a swimming competition in London, all he wants is to sleep on the flight. But that’s the last thing on the agenda because sitting next to him is a woman who only wants to cause trouble. Eight hours later, the captain teaches her a lesson.

I was already prepared for the flight. I knew that it was going to be a long one. I mean, eight hours from London to New York was not going to be easy, but I had my earplugs, sleeping pills, and a few snacks to keep me going.

I had just wrapped up a grueling swimming competition, and every muscle in my body was crying for some much-needed rest. I was in the middle seat, which wasn’t ideal for my height, but I was too tired to care. The woman next to me, at the window, seemed just as wiped out as I was, and I could see her eyes drooping before we took off.

We exchanged a weary smile before settling into our seats.

It’s okay, James, I thought to myself. You’ll sleep through it all.

But then there was the woman who was going to be the cause of absolute mayhem and discomfort for the next eight hours.

From the moment she sat down next to me, I sensed that she was going to be trouble. She was huffing and puffing and shifting around like she’d been assigned to a seat in the luggage compartment instead of economy.

“Oh boy,” the window-seat woman sighed.

Aisle-seat woman, let’s call her Karen, kept eyeing me up and down, her mouth twisting into a frown.

Look, I’m a tall guy at six foot two. I was used to getting uncomfortable stares in airplanes, but it wasn’t my fault.

The first sign of trouble came when the plane took off. Karen pressed the call button, not once like any rational person, but three times in a row, like she was setting off an alarm.

I almost expected an alarm to sound off in the airplane.

“Ma’am,” the flight attendant asked when we had reached cruising altitude, “how can I help you?”

“This seat is unacceptable!” Karen snapped. Her voice was loud enough to draw attention from the rows around us.

“I’m cramped, and look at these two… people! They’re practically spilling over into my space.”

She shot a look at me, then at the woman at the window, who was staring straight ahead, pretending not to notice.

“I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked today,” the flight attendant replied. “There’s nowhere else for you to move.”

“You mean that there’s not one seat available on this flight? What about business class? Nothing?” she demanded.

“No, ma’am,” the flight attendant said. “There’s nothing available.”

“Then I want them moved,” Karen declared, louder this time. “I paid for this seat just like everyone else here, and it’s not fair that I have to be squished next to them. I can’t even open a packet of chips without bumping into this guy.”

For emphasis, she elbowed me in the arm.

I glanced over at the woman in the window seat, who looked on the verge of tears. My patience was wearing thin, too, and I couldn’t handle this woman when my energy tank was empty.

“Ma’am,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could, “we’re all just trying to get through this flight and get to our destinations. There’s really nothing wrong with the seating arrangements here.”

“Nothing wrong?” Karen barked. “Are you kidding me? Are you blind?”

She continued her rant for what felt like hours. And it was clear she wasn’t going to drop it. I tried to ignore her, but she kept shifting in her seat, kicking my legs, and continuously elbowing my arm.

By the fourth hour, I was cranky and exhausted beyond any other moment in my life. I was done.

“Look,” I said, turning to her as the flight attendant wheeled a cart down the aisle, “we can keep this up for the rest of the flight, or we can try and make the best of a bad situation. Why don’t you watch something on the screen? There are some pretty good movies here.”

But she wasn’t having it at all.

“Why don’t you tell her to go on a diet? And why don’t you learn to book seats that have space for your gigantic legs? Why do you both insist on making my life hell?” Karen hissed.

And the entire time we had been talking, Karen was busy pressing the call button.

I felt my blood boil and watched as the woman sitting next to the window tried to make herself as small as possible.

I could see the flight attendants murmuring amongst themselves, giving Karen dirty looks. If I’m being honest, I was just hoping that one of them would slip her a sedative or something. Finally, a flight attendant came over, looking as upset as I was.

“Ma’am, if you don’t calm down, we’re going to have to ask you to stay seated and not press the call button again, not unless it’s an actual emergency.”

“Oh, this is an emergency!” she shouted. “It’s a human rights violation! My rights are being violated, and everyone is just ignoring that!”

The rest of the flight went on like this, with Karen sighing dramatically, muttering under her breath, and generally making everyone around us miserable.

I just kept my head down and tried to focus on the tiny screen in front of me, tracking our progress home.

When we finally landed, I couldn’t have been any happier if I tried. This nightmare was almost over.

But then, as soon as the wheels touched down, Karen was out of her seat, darting up the aisle as if she was about to miss her connecting flight to Mars. The seatbelt sign was still on, and everyone was sitting patiently, waiting for it to turn off.

But not Karen. No, she was ignoring all the calls from the flight attendants, not even looking back. Soon, she was standing right next to the curtain separating the business-class seats from economy.

The rest of us just watched, too exhausted and frustrated to react.

Then came the captain’s voice over the intercom:

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to New York! We have a special guest onboard today.”

There was a collective groan. What now? Were we supposed to sit there for longer?

“We ask that everyone remain seated as I make my way through the cabin to greet this very special passenger.”

Karen perked up for some reason, her shoulders straightening like she’d just been announced as Miss Universe. She looked around with a self-satisfied smile, as if expecting everyone to applaud her.

When the captain came out of the cockpit, we saw a middle-aged man with a calm demeanor and a tired smile. As he saw Karen, he paused.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said. “I need to get past you to greet our special guest.”

“Oh,” she said, looking surprised. “Of course.”

He continued to make her step back down the aisle until they were almost to our row. It was priceless because although she was complying with him, the confusion growing on her face was clear.

“Maybe you should sit down in your seat,” he said.

The rest of us were watching in stunned silence, catching on to what he was doing. I could feel a smile tugging at my lips. The woman next to me was grinning, too.

Finally, the captain stopped at our row, forcing Karen to move into the row and stand at her seat.

The captain looked up at the seat numbers and grinned to himself before speaking.

“Ah, here we are,” he said, his voice booming through the cabin. “Ladies and gentlemen, our special guest is sitting right here in seat 42C. Can we all give her a round of applause?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then someone started clapping, followed by another, and another. Before long, the whole plane erupted into laughter and applause.

The woman’s face turned bright red. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She just stood there, awkward and humiliated, as the captain took a slight bow and returned to the front.

“That,” I said, leaning back in my seat with a satisfied grin, “was worth the eight hours of this torture.”

The rest of us finally gathered our things and filed out, leaving her to stew in her own embarrassment.

“Jeez,” the woman next to me said. “I’m so glad this is over. I don’t ever want to see that woman again. Maybe we’ll end up next to each other on another flight. Without a Karen this time.”

“Here’s hoping,” I said, and for the first time since the flight started, I genuinely laughed.

What would you have done?

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