#atticenvy

It's kinda like penis envy, except with attics. Being neither a prepubescent female nor a follower of Freud, penis envy is something I haven't experienced. Attic envy, on the other hand, is a burden I must carry. Having lived in a renovated attic for fifteen months, I've grown rather fond of the tight quarters, the rustic feel, and the way I can turn off all my appliances and electronics, light some oil lanterns, and pretend I'm in eighteenth century Boston. Here are some "pornographic" images that stir up my attic lust:

This isn't actually an attic, but a restored Medieval-era hotel.
The chiseled stone, wooden decor, and arching beams all scream RUSTIC ATTIC.

Browsing rustic attics is a lot like looking at pornography: you flip through the images until you find the one that has all that you're looking for. In this case, there's less to choose from, and you don't have the added libido fueling a four-hour binge, so these are all the images I cared to share before growing tired of looking at rustic attics and moving on to something else.