I live in an old row house in Southeast DC which means that the windows in my living room are probably close to a hundred years old and cold air seeps in all winter long. It also means that we have a really creepy attic upstairs. And as if attics weren't creepy enough by their sheer existence, this one happens to be filled with wonderful artifacts like old x-rays and this typewriter.
Oh, and did I mention there's a children's swimming pool up there too? Well, that's a completely different story.