Some things are best left a mystery.

Last August Ben and I went to Minneapolis for a friend's wedding and I took the opportunity to show Ben around the city and the U of M campus and take him to all my old hangouts. We stopped by my old house (known as the "treehouse" to all my friends) and this is what I found:

I had been expecting to see some version of this:

It was surprising and sad and I wondered what had happened to the treehouse. I had shared the upstairs apartment with two good friends and had some great memories of this place. The ceiling had collapsed one night in my roommate's bedroom so I figured the place wasn't going to last forever.

But my old roommate recently filled me in on the demise of the treehouse. Apparently, it burned to the ground a few years ago and the people that were living in my upstairs apartment didn't make it out. How terrible is that? So yes, some things are probably best left a mystery.