the ghost whisperer
Next time I decide it's a good idea to have an online chat with an Australian psychic in the middle of the night, please stop me. Not that he isn't lovely...he really is (I think my mother might adore him and she's never even texted with him.) And the conversation was fascinating beyond words. But it's a windy night, I have mice in the walls, and now I'm laying in my bed with the covers up to my chin trying not to see shapes in the shadows as I jump at every single sound.
Just call me Miss Scaredy Cat. I'll freely admit to being somewhat terrified. Ok...a lot terrified. But did I mention I was talking to someone half a world away who could see things inside my house I'd never mentioned before?
All I wanted to do was help our resident ghost. The sweet little girl who, for whatever reason, hasn't left the confines of my house since who knows when. I just wish I'd tackled the job in the light of day. Everything looks brighter in the light of day, right?
It's my own fault...decades of scary movie watching...and scary book reading...and all the other scare inducing things I indulged in back when I was young and stupid...have turned me into a great big chicken.
Ok, so nothing bad happened. Other than a tornado warning that shook me out of bed at the crack of dawn. And speaking of tornado warnings, I never thought I'd find myself in the position of deciding what I was more afraid of...being ripped from the ground by a giant vacuum cloud, or trudging down the stairs into my scary basement.
The basement won out, and I rode out the storm in the comfort of my living room. Hey, I'm still alive, aren't I?
As far as the ghost? I've been told her name is Charity, and she's likes me. I mean, what's not to like, right?
Until the next time...I'll be talking to my ghost on sunny days only.