My house was built in 1907. That’s the only thing I know about my house, really, and I tell it to people all the time. “It was built in 1907,” I say, pointing at something in the house when we’re walking around. I could be pointing at my CD player. It doesn’t matter what I’m pointing at, because then I make a little joke I always make: “It was a very popular year to build houses in San Francisco.”

I would say ‘Classic!’, but I think I’m overusing that word today. But you know what I’m thinking.
NYTIMES: My House – What Lies Beneath

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