"What's that?" I asked John as we passed through my daughters' bathroom. The faint banging of something in the attic could be heard with each gust of wind. It's been very stormy in California the past week and we've discovered a few surprises in our little old house. For example, the threshold under our front door quit its job about a decade ago and now ushers in water, wind and dirt whenever possible. Now this. "I think it's a draft," John replies. "Can we put on our jackets and go see it?" asks Shelby. "You want to go see the draft?" I ask. She nods her head, "Uh, huh. Can we go up and see the giraffe in the attic?"