Northbrook Row House

Not only was this place badly decorated, it was also blandly decorated. Out-dated, too. The whole thing felt like the model unit of a planned community that had gone up in 1992.

These stairs were right inside the front door. Seniors: do yourself a favor and please leave now. This is no place for you and your stiff joints and achy-breaky bones and propensity for bad falls.

This yawning chasm waited at the top of the stairs. I think I first saw this set-up about 15 years ago, in the window of one of those cut-rate furniture stores on north Clark Street.

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Buy this now for the next time abstract, black, purple and hot-pink rugs are popular.

One thing you can say for this bedroom is that it sure does make you feel sleepy.

Don't bother asking. The pencil cup is NOT 4 sale. You will never possess it. Not at any price.

Mount Prospect Doll House

Nothing makes this job easier than an obsession allowed to grow unchecked. It's even better when that obsession is dolls, which are creepy enough in ones and twos. Fill a house with them, however, and these posts practically write themselves.

Here we go. This doll house was given pride of place in the living room. Everything else was arrayed around it, as if it sat in the center of some kind of shrine. I heard someone say that the dolls who used to live here missed a bunch of payments, and are now down in the basement, living in a cardboard box.

This bedroom was jam-packed with adorable preciousness from top to bottom. Let's take a closer look at that wallpaper behind the bed.

Just imagine -- a wall covered with these little imps of Hell. That zombified Pierrot in the upper-right corner, stumbling blindly among all these glassy-eyed Victorian ladies, is especially awful. If these girls ever started chattering to you in your head, I bet they'd never shut up.

Legend tells of an Amish family with no faces, who wander the backroads of Pennsylvania at night, looking for weary travelers who are charmed by their primitive cuteness, and then killing them.

There weren't just dolls, there were books about dolls.

Lots and lots of books about dolls.

So many I'm surprised I didn't find a copy of "Valley of the Dolls" somewhere with them.

This is what I call a basket full of "Woof!"

Here's a lineup of cute little cubs.

Still more. It must have been bear night at The Doll House, with 2-for-1 cans of PBR.

This library was just down the hall.

That book just above Kennedy's head should come as no surprise.

I'd make a joke about these two and erections, but this is a family blog.

Let's see what's upstairs. Watch you step!

This little attic room was tucked away on the second floor, and was just creepy enough to be the place where dolls were sent when they were naughty.

This was in the back, a reminder of a simpler and more streamlined time. One before the dolls came, and took over everything. It makes me wish I lived in a larger place and knew how to reupholster.

Here's another bedroom.

Look at all those Stepford Wife hats.

Someone with this many dolls must have a ton of Christmas stuff. I bet it's downstairs. Let's take a look and then get out of here.

Those people in the back kept turning this vacuum cleaner on and off, and every time they did this horrible chemical smell would fill up the entire basement. People were coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces and commenting to one another about the terrible smell, but those two continued to not take the hint.

This Capeheart record player still worked. It was playing some Broadway sound track, which just made the basement and the bad smell and all the people and the whole darned thing that much more surreal.

Jackpot. Christmas stuff in spades.

So much that it had to be hung from the ceiling, like so many holiday varmints who'd been stealing reindeer and shooting up the workshop and scaring the elves.

Back upstairs. I saw this sign on the way out. I love how "cleaning supplies" is underlined, as if to emphasize that this closet features something that is not dolls, and therefore unique in this house.

Elmhurst Block Sale

It's not nice to advertise your block sale as an estate sale. But people do it from time to time any way.

Did some of you people perpetrate this scam? If so, shame on you. Now let me in to your house. I have photos to take and snark to dish out.

I don't like to boast, but I have this exact same fondue set at home in harvest gold.

Question: Which wildly popular game from the 1980s originally retailed for $19.99 and can now be purchased for about two bucks?

Scariest. Clown painting. Ever. Recently a co-worker asked me to pick up some bad clown art for him. He said he wanted it to frighten his kids. Seems like a legitimate reason to me. Unfortunately, that was after I happened upon this monstrosity, or I would have gladly delivered it to his office. Until something suitable shows up again, I suggest printing out this picture and hanging it next to their beds. It should do the trick nicely.

When you buy the foam for just $2.00, we include the dirt and bugs at no extra cost!

Chicago Salesman's Home/Office

This was a memorable place. Not so much for what we found in it -- there were a few choice items which you'll see shortly -- but for what we brought home from it.

Here's the living room. Nothing too much out of the ordinary here.

This painting caught my eye. How could it not? It sort of reminds me of Buckingham Fountain in downtown Chicago, though it isn't.

Never used. Perhaps it should have been.

The home office. It took only a few looks around to figure out that the former owner was a salesman.

Who apparently enjoyed the wholesome goodness of a ground meat dish from time to time.

This made me laugh. The guy actually took this portfolio to meetings, because his business cards were still in there.

The bedroom closet had these "Designer Ties" for just $5 each. Every time I hear the term "designer" thrown around, I have to ask, "Which designer?" That usually stops the conversation right there.

Back in the living room. This modular plastic sculpture/room divider thingy from the seventies somehow escaped my eye. Maybe because it had been hidden under some pretty ratty-looking houseplants.

It was actually J who brought it to my attention. He saw the value immediately. He had a vision. I, however, took some convincing.

But several minutes of back-and-forth agonizing, a bit of bargaining with the people running the sale, and $30 dollars later, we were putting it in the car.

Here it is back at the ranch, mostly disassembled.

It took quite a few attempts -- and cocktails -- to get it put together in just the right configuration. Here's an early attempt that was abandoned for looking too much like a snow fort.

Here's another set-up that resembled a bunch of paint cans or PVC pipe. I was beginning to wonder if we'd brought a genuine white elephant home with us.

We're making progress here. Tall and skinny is good. But it's not quite jelling yet.

That's better.

There were lights to be installed inside, too, which made us ooh and aah.

Here's the finished product, very much at home in our home.

Purchased: Seventies white plastic modular sculpture/room divider thing, $30.

Park Ridge Galleria of Wallpaper

Wallpaper is back, according to the home style experts. But in some homes, it never went away. In some homes, in fact, you might have a hard time getting rid of it.

This home is one.

But first, let it be said I found a lot to love in this house. For starters, this light fixture, hanging over the main entryway. The new owners are sure to tear this down, but I hope it ends up in a good home.

Here's a view of the elevated dining room, which looked out over a formal living room, both of them situated beneath a cathedral ceiling.

Things start to get wonky here in the kitchen.

Here's a closer shot of that linoleum. Dated, yes. Busy, for sure. But still in fine shape, and by itself not necessarily offensive.

But pair it with this wallpaper and suddenly, I don't know whether to laugh or cry or drop a hit of acid and hope for the best.

This shot gives you a better sense of the full effect. That poor clock looks like it's crawling up the wall in an effort to get away.

The kitchen also featured one of those ceiling fans that were so popular a few years back, until that series of unfortunate decapitations made the news.

Sure, it was just a closet. But sometimes a closet likes to dress up and feel pretty, too.

The master bedroom. Who wouldn't enjoy being lulled to sleep by the sounds of a crackling fire?

Surrounded by birds and massive pink flowers, twisting and writhing all around you?

Hurry up and do your business, before the walls close in on you!

If you're a glutton for punishment -- like me -- here's a final shot. Just don't look at it too long or the image will be burned into your retinas.