Sunday, April 28, 2013

Haunted Living

Today is my sister's birthday.

I sure love her a lot.  She has one of the kindest and most giving hearts I have ever encountered.

Happy birthday, MaryAnn!

Life is hurtling along at its break neck speed, as usual.

Funny how all week long I think of wonderful things the kids did or said and how I want to record them, and then when it comes down to it, I am too busy or too tired, or too something else to even open my computer and those precious moments are lost forever.

Friday I was disgusted with how gross my van had become over the cold months and finally decided to clean it out.  While I was cleaning, the kids decided they wanted to wash it, so I let them.  I have some adorable pictures of them, except after Keith's soccer game on Saturday I got a new phone and Jeffrey inherited my old one. Complete with photos of the kids.  It will be a while before I can find him unoccupied enough to let me snag them, so just imagine a hot day, the sun glinting off the cinnamon colored (that is the nice way to say brown) van, a ladder, and two little helpers, each with a rag in hand, scrubbing their little hearts out, content as can be.  Imagine Bastille playing in the background and a very hot me vacuuming out and wiping down all surfaces inside the van.  Minus the windows, because when it gets that hot, the cleaner evaporates before I can actually wipe it off, thus leaving big streaks.

On a final note, I am beginning to suspect that this house has ghosts.  Or magic of some sort.

A few weeks back, Jeffrey and I were in our room talking.  He was sitting on the bed and I was on the big ugly chair in the corner.  We were just chatting about... no idea, really.  I had a clear view of the light switches and as we chatted, I watched the light switch slowly move down and switch off.  It was so weird.  We were surprised by the phenomenon but obviously shrugged it off.

Tonight, I was watching a show while cleaning up my room.  I admit, it had ghosts in it, so I was a little spooked out to begin with.  As I walked down the hall to put Faye's shoes away, I heard a noise that made my heart jump and speed up a little fast.  It sounded like something banging in my room, like something had just fallen against the wall, but I knew no one was in my room.  I summoned courage and went back, but everything was just the way I had left it.  After a few deep breaths I told myself I was being silly and went about my straightening up.

To continue, I need to explain a bit of the anatomy of the basement.  There is a large family room with a hall leading down towards three rooms.  The kids' room is on the left in the hall, and where the hall ends there is a door and a little pocket with three doors.  The ending door is my Father in law's office.  The pocket is our bedroom, three feet across from our bedroom is the door to the furnace closet, and directly adjacent to both is the bathroom door.

So, as I was walking towards my bedroom, just passing the furnace closet, the door shook, rattled, and then opened.  I ran as fast as I could, down the hall, and towards Jeffrey.  He was sitting, doing his homework and laughed at me.  My palms were sweaty, my heart was beating a stocatto in my chest, and I couldn't breathe.  He looked at me, jumped up, and asked "What's worng?!  What happened?"  I stood there breathing hard and just looked at him, trying to catch my breath.  He was tense.  I was finally able to breathe out enough to tell him about the knocking and then the door opening.

He laughed at me.

I told him to stop laughing and fix it.

He sighed, shook his head, and walked down the hall and looked in our room.  For some reason, he thought I was talking about the noise being in our room.  I stood in the hall, just a ways away from the door, not rounding the corner.  I was still too scared.  I pointed at the wall indicating the furnace closet, and he strode across the three feet, and then flung open wide the door.

Of course there was nothing there.  Of course there was nothing to explain the opening and closing of the door.  Of course I looked like just a scared little girl.  But what could I do?

The light had just turned off on its own.  Jeffrey was there and saw it, so I am not crazy.

The door did rattle and then open on its own, but this time, I was the only one who was there.

I beginning to sympathize with Faye when she cries about having to go downstairs alone to get things.

I think we might be living with ghosts.

Just saying, is all.

5 comments:

Confessions of a PTO Mom said...

Years ago, my older girls used to tell us stories about "the lady." They haven't in quite some time. I think we might have scared her out ourselves. That, and there's no room in the house anymore.

Sue said...

Yikes!

=)

Jenny said...

I believe in ghosts.

And I think sometimes they're just looking for comfort...or trying to give it!

Kenzie S said...

That would have me royally freaked out! Yikes!

Emmy said...

Okay that totally would have freaked me out!!