let there be light
If you read this blog with any regularity, you'll know that in addition to a plethora of crazy farm animals, a few dogs, a cat, and a possible rogue garden gnome or wily fox, we also have a ghost. Ordinarily, our ghost maintains a quiet existence, living (or not living as the case may be) with us harmoniously. We rarely have cause to even remember she's here.
And then there are those other times when there is no question we're not alone.
The sound of footsteps in the upstairs hall used to freak me out. Ok, so it still sort of freaks me out, but I've become skilled at convincing myself there's a squirrel in the attic, or really big mice. But sometimes, I can't make myself believe the lie because the truth is staring me in the face.
The evidence is stacked in favor of a haunting, and I just can't ignore it. For example...the case of the vanishing stuffed animal. Or should I say, the case of the reappearing stuffed animal?
My dog is now the proud owner of a very expensive stuffed rabbit. It used to belong to one of the girls, and she had no intention of giving it to the dog. But no matter how many times it was hidden in a closet or a dresser drawer where the four-legged family members couldn't reach it, it somehow found it's way back to the living room where Indy could claim it as his own.
Then there were the instances of doors opening and closing themselves, even as people sat in the rooms while it happened. At least two of our kids witnessed a doorknob turn, followed by a door swinging open, only to close again a moment later. This trumps phantom footsteps every day of the week.
Mady even swears she heard the ghost standing beside her bed one night, and it freaked her out so bad she fled to the main floor to sleep on the couch.
But the newest evidence takes the proverbial cake.
The light in the upstairs bathroom has repeatedly turned itself on, even after high-tech redneck hubby has made a point of turning it off on a daily basis. Keep in mind, when there are no kids in the house, no one uses that bathroom. In fact, we don't even go upstairs, since our bedroom and separate bath are on the main level. There isn't anyone here to turn on the light. Oh, except the animals...or the ghost.
So there you have it. Compelling evidence? Or elaborate hoax perpetrated by the chickens to drive us mad? Only the dogs know for sure.
Until the next time...I'll be sending hubby up to turn off the light again.