In what may be the most delightfully uncanny investigation of the domestic dwelling since Lewis Carroll, John Thorne puzzles out such enigmas as why things get lost in closets, why chairs have backs instead of fronts, what mirrors look at when we're not around, and why houses are rarely haunted anymore. His unexpected and occasionally unsettling answers transform the totally familiar - keyholes, floors, windows, doorknobs, cellars, stairways, bathtubs, even dust - into objects of mystery. In twenty colorful vignettes, Thorne recalls fragmented memories of the many places he has inhabited and converses on the seemingly unremarkable elements that make each house a home. Simple events such as sleeping on a pallet, finding himself on the wrong side of a locked door, having to wash dishes in the bathtub, or climbing to the attic to escape family life, have accreted over the years into a private mythology of the home. From the lifelong implications of every child's fear of falling out of bed to the "erotics of order" that define chests of drawers, Thorne teases out secrets that any householder or apartment dweller will find enchanting and true.