When we moved into this old farmhouse the previous owner asked me to tell him if I ever found money in the walls. The local myth is that old timers used to hide their money in the walls and ceilings of their houses. Up to this very day I've been tempted to tear out a ceiling or two, partially because they are ugly as sin and deserve to be torn out, but also because some part of me is hoping that I'm rich and don't know it.
But today, as I sit here listening to the mice nibbling the inside of my 200 year-old-walls, I realized that it wouldn't matter if there had been a bundle of cash hidden somewhere in the house. Even if there once was a wad of bills waiting to be found, by now the mice have chewed it into bedding for their babies and it's useless to me.
Rats.
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