Waffle House was a mistaaaaaaaaaaake.
I was up puking half the night. Can you get a fever with food poisoning? I feel like big shit. Of COURSE this happens on a 2-week time crunch on the biggest project I’ve ever tried to do.
Fine. Fine. Not like I have better things to do than lie curled up in a motel bathtub at 2 in the morning.
Worst part is I have to go down to the estate anyway. I literally can’t afford to skip a day. Mark would skin me alive.
Just going to have to drive with my window down I guess. I’m just glad I packed my bag last night. God I hope Jane sent someone to open things up this time. I mentioned it to Quinn in our phone call last night but she didn’t get back to me.
The gates are open!! Small miracles. I don’t think I could handle a trek through the woods today.
I am feeling a little better now, though. I haven’t had to throw up since I left the motel. Fingers crossed it was just a 12-hour bug or something.
OK, heading down now. Uh -
Notes on the Madigan Estate
Seeing as I finally have direct access to the front of the estate, I thought I’d stop and take some notes.
The estate lawn is wildly overgrown. I’m sure it was well-maintained once, but I guess a hundred years takes a toll on a place, because what was a lawn is now a forest of very, very dead trees. Looking at the manor from the front, at a distance, I can see vines choking the walls and pushing through the windows on every floor. The crown of a tree is protruding from the roof on the far right side.
Big props to whoever Jane Madigan sent down here, because it looks like they hacked through the front doors. The grand foyer is wide open today. I parked at the edge of the “lawn” so I have easy access to my car and I have a full kit of food/water/first aid supplies, in case I trip into another bramble bush.
I also got an early start today thanks to my ceaseless nighttime vomiting. Maybe early enough to make up for lost time yesterday. I feel a lot better now. Tired, but not nauseous. Maybe I’ll have dry toast or something when I get back to the room.
Can’t find my glasses. Going to check the car.
Always have to forget something. Must have left my glasses back at the motel. Good thing I’m nearsighted and can still read docs and stuff.
Heading into the grand foyer now. Front doors standing wide open. I wonder what was blocking them before - furniture maybe? The path is clear now.
Now this is more like it. Opulence on a stupid scale. From just inside the doors, I’m facing a massive, colonnaded room lined with broad archways. The floor is covered in dust and plaster but I think it might be marble. Windows along the outer walls are letting in plenty of light so I don’t need my headlamp yet.
I think my favorite part is the ceiling. It’s this gorgeous ribbed planking, very Gothic-looking. Probably had great acoustics back in the day.
I’ll put any artifacts I can move by myself in here. There’s already a big mahogany table in the center of the room, but it looks like it weighs about five hundred pounds so I’m just going to leave it where it is.
To my right, an archway leads into some kind of octagonal atrium with a sunken floor. I think this was the winter garden (Quinn mentioned something about this; Crowley Madigan had it commissioned as a way to enjoy nature and greenery in the winter months). There’s a big old fountain in the center of the dip, and a lot of big pots around the edges of the room. A few of them still have dead bushes in them.
Left of the foyer is a staircase. A grand staircase, spiraling up in its own turret. I’ll save that for later and keep to the ground floor today. I’m super excited to see what might be in the bedrooms, though. I’ll venture in a little further before I settle in and start digging.
Did they give out awards based on how many parlors you had, or something? Another parlor behind the entrance foyer. This one’s in slightly better shape than the one I found yesterday. There’s still a massive hole in the ceiling but at least there isn’t any moss growing on the carpet.
There’s a piano on the far wall. Overturned bench, papers spilling out of the compartment under the seat. Jackpot. There’s also some kind of china hutch or cabinet on the other wall, and a few collapsed and broken chairs, but nothing salvageable I can see. I’ll see if I can claim the bench and if there’s anything in the hutch.
Someone’s carved their name into the piano with a knife. Samuel.
OK, time to do what I do best.