I did not think I had a story for you today but then, like a miracle, I remembered that my house is haunted. If you recall, I was going to tell the electrician all about it in a recent post.
My two oldest children and Teenager Who Lives in the Basement have always sworn to this. Even though I can't vouch for their experiences, I can tell you about the one experience I had about a year after moving in. It was the middle of the day in the middle of summer and I was home alone except for our dog, Sam. We were dozing lightly in the living room.
BigB came home. I heard the door off the kitchen open, I heard him put down his keys, and I waited with my eyes still closed for him to come find us. But he didn't. Then I listened for him. I couldn't hear him. I opened my eyes and looked towards the kitchen, which I could see from where I was stationed. I looked at Sam, who was also fully awake and looking at the kitchen, with her head cocked to one side. Sam looked at me. We looked at each other and said, "Rot-Ro".
Then Sam said, "You go", and I said, "No, you go". Sam said, "Why do I have to go?", and I said, "Are you kidding me, Sam? I'm a Chicken. You're a dog. If you need an egg, you ask me. If I need some muscle I ask you. That's the way it works!".
It took a minute or so to get that settled and still, no further sound from the kitchen. Sam said, "Whatever Chicken", and ambled off to the kitchen while I cowered behind peeking from over the top of my quilt. In the kitchen, she sat on her haunches, cocked her head again, and stared towards the kitchen door area, which I should have mentioned, is not visible from the living room. She stayed like that for 10 seconds or so, came back, shrugged her shoulders, which is not easy for a dog because the shoulders are attached to the leg bones, in their case, and laid back down. I said, "Well????". Sam said, "Well, what? There's no one there, Chicken. It was our imagination."
"Oh. Our COLLECTIVE imagination, Sam?"
"Exactly. Group Think"
It shouldn't come as a surprise that my dog would be a smartass.
And then we went back to sleep and later when BigB came home I asked him why he had been home in the middle of the day, and he said....wait for it.....he hadn't been home in the middle of the day.
Sam died shortly after the ghost incident. Fast forward. It is Christmas 2009 and BigB, littleb, and I, well mostly BigB, are struggling with the Christmas tree lights. littleb is intent on using the camera and I am drinking wine and content to let him realize his intentions. (Ha. That was fun). Anyway, he snaps the following photo:
OMG, What the hell is that????
Just kidding. That's our ceiling.
But this one is a little harder to explain:
OMG What the Heellllll is that.
Yes, that's what I said.
That is a gnarled pile of Christmas lights. They were lying on the floor.
Somehow, in littleb's picture, they ended up on the ceiling.
If anyone can explain this to me (in words I understand), please, enlighten me.
Because. I was thinking, "Damn it Sam, that is NOT funny".
And now off to bed with you, wee rascals. I promise there is nothing under the bed. Except maybe for Sam.
(And by the way the Chicken Crossing the Road features some verra fine dancing tonight)