Most of the time, the activity around here is only experienced by me, so I have a moment of joy when something happens for another to experience. Even better, when multiple people witness unexplainable events.
For example, we had my sisters and another friend over to hang out one night recently. Around 1:00 AM, we all went to the kitchen for a snack. Our friend had poured the final bowl of Cocoa Krispies (precious commodity around here) and set the bowl on a stool while waiting for my husband to retrieve milk from the fridge. While waiting, she turned her back to the stool and cereal bowl to engage in conversation with me. My husband was in the fridge with his back to the cereal bowl as well. Me and one of my sisters were the only ones who actually had the stool in our line of sight.
The bowl suddenly flipped off the stool resulting in a large scattering of the highly valued chocolaty cereal all over the kitchen floor. My sister didn’t say anything. The widening of her eyes said enough. My friend immediately blamed my husband for the tragedy, and an argument ensued over who must have hit the stool to cause the spillage. It was especially charged due to it being the last quantity of the delicious snack in the house! They both denied touching the stool. They were both truthful as well, since each of them were a few feet away from the bowl at the moment on question.
I just left the room giggling while they continued to figure out what actually happened. I knew what happened.
However, all the experiences here are not always that benign or entertaining. Every now and then, the revolving ghost door here lets in a nasty one. Most of our ‘friends’ only stay a few weeks at most, so we usually just ride it out knowing it won’t be long before they vacate. But we picked up one recently that was a little too aggressive to wait it out. I had to make some calls.
This particular spirit had been pretty aggressive with me in the way of hair pulling, pinching and pushing. I was annoyed for a while, but then it went too far.
My husband came to me one day, irate with the vein in his forehead throbbing. He asked me why I would slap our five year old across the face! Of course, I did not do such a thing and asked why he would ask me that. Our son had told him I did. Why would he say that? Later that night, I asked him at bed time why he told Daddy I did that.
His response was, “Because you did.”
I thought maybe he had dreamed this happening or there was some sort of other reasonable explanation. He said he couldn’t see me do it, but he was slapped on his face and since I was the only one home with him at the time, it must have been me (he still tries hard to logically explain things that happen around here in his own little five year old way). Although he was still trying to figure out how and why I did it.
I assured him it wasn’t me, but I would take care of it so that it didn’t happen again.
On another occasion during our aggressive guest’s stay, my husband’s cousin was over watching some TV with me. I was lounging on my right side on the far right of the couch while she was sitting on the floor leaning back against the front of the left side of the couch. My attention was diverted from the television screen when I saw her head quickly jerk back against the couch in a very unnatural way. She then jumped up in fight mode certain that I had done the yanking. She quickly realized that it was against the laws of physics for me to have possibly pulled her hair with that kind of force and still be completely relaxed in the same location.
She then got a concerned look about her and asked, “Did that really just happen?!?”
All I could say was, “Welcome to my world.”
Phone calls were made and the date was set for a priest to visit the house. I’m not Catholic, but I’m game for anything we can do to solve the problem. My husband’s cousin requested to be present when we evicted the SOB that yanked her ponytail.
I’ve had a lot of crazy nights living in this house, but the night the priest was here ranks right up at the top.
(Stay tuned for details and vids…)
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