amish paradise

Here we go again. Another chapter in the saga of my ancient haunted farmhouse.​

The power is out in the kitchen again. This time, the stove and the refrigerator are on the only circuits working, so that's a plus. But the overhead lights and the outlets are apparently on another, and they're out. So I can cook...in the dark. The hallway, bathroom and dining room are apparently on similar circuits, because they're out too. So I have  darkness in half the house and no outlets...again. And it appears as if we're talking opposite circuits from the last ​time this happened.

So I wonder...are we talking 100 year old faulty wiring? Mice chewing through cloth covered wires? Ghosts toying with my sanity? Or just plain bad luck? I have no idea, but I'm on the verge of tearing my hair out.​

My hus...or rather, my imaginary dead president, Mr. Lincoln, feels right at home. He's actually enjoying the black out. He lit oil lamps and placed them around the house, saying he actually prefers it this way. Figures. He's on 1860s time. He wouldn't mind it at all if we were forced back into the time before electricity and connectivity.

Well, I can live just fine without the lights. As long as I still have the outlet that charges my laptop, the one that powers the internet, and the one that keeps my space heater warm. The rest of it's just gravy anyway.

Until the next time...I'll be baking bread by candlelight!​

the lizard in the wintertime

So, my circuits are still out. I have lights...in most rooms anyway...but very few outlets that work, and still no heat pump. Thank goodness for my husband's zombie preparedness or we wouldn't have the kerosine heaters to keep me from freezing to death. And blankets...lots and lots of blankets.

Which is why I was in the basement...in the dark, because apparently my life is a scary movie wherein I would need to go into the basement with the lights out after dark. Don't look at me like that...I need blankets. And socks. And damn it, clean underwear.

So, I grabbed my husband's head light. You know the ones you strap on your head with an elastic band so you look like a damn miner heading into the coal mines? And I grab the Maglight for good measure, because when you're going in to a dark scary basement, you can't take any chances.

Even though I do have stairs that lead to the basement from inside the house, I've been forbidden to use them. Yes, forbidden. If you know my track record for accidents, and you've seen the horror movie worthy staircase leading to my basement, you would completely understand what I mean when I say FORBIDDEN. My husband doesn't want to come home and find me dead at the bottom of the stairs, laundry basket over my head and clothes scattered in my wake. So yeah, I'm taking the stairs that run on the outside of the house.

And did I mention my lights are out? And it's been cold...and raining...and all the other ingredients for a slasher movie are present and accounted for as I pull on my boots and my head light (making everything look like I'm wandering through the Blair Witch Project) with my overflowing laundry basket. And since my hands were occupied with the wicker basket, I tossed the Maglight inside and the eerie glow coming out of the sheets just added to the creepy ambiance of scary shadows. 

The stairwell was filled with wet leaves making my heavy footfall sound like I was walking over potato chips, but I knew it was likely slippery and therefore precarious...for me.

When I reached the bottom and struggled with the key to open the ancient door, I noticed something moving by my feet, and screamed. Apparently, not only do I have ghosts, mice, and no electricity, but I also have Godzilla in my basement. The size of the lizard looking up at me from the doorway was startling. His long blackish green body (with bright yellow spots) looked almost artificial in the eerie glow of my head lamp but when I touched him with my toe, he moved.  I immediately looked for feet because for some reason, a lizard (still scary) is much less heart attack inducing than a snake. Don't ask me why. And what the hell is a lizard doing in my basement in the wintertime? Don't they hibernate?

Anyway...

When I finished my laundry and was safely back inside the empty house, I decided to take a shower. Because, yeah...scary basement, sticky webs, lizards...but when I opened my shower curtain, a giant black spider looked back at me.

This set me over the edge, because when it comes right down to it, giant lizards, possibly rabid mice, dark scary basements and ghosts in the attic have absolutely nothing on the big black spider in my shower.

Screaming through the house on a wicked tear, cursing my husband for not being home to kill it. Cursing the cold, and the old, and the damp...I'm sure my neighbors were certain the cast of the Jersey Shore had moved in, with the language I was spouting. I put a randy band of pirates, drunk on rum and women, to shame with that language.  And hey, I just can't find it in me to be ashamed. I had a rough day. And I haven't had much sleep. And you just didn't see the size of that spider.

Until the next time...I'll be calling the exterminator...the electrician...and the ghostbusters.

ghost in the attic

I have a ghost.

This is no secret, I've said it before. My ghost is the fairly non-confrontational type. She (we're pretty sure it's a she) likes to open and close doors, bounce invisible balls, and pad around the floors above us late at night. Mostly, she's quiet. I often forget she's even there.

Not tonight. Tonight, she was active. She was moving things around in the attic.

When I heard the boxes sliding around, I immediately assumed my kids were upstairs looking for something. Oh, I thought they'd gone out for the evening, but who else could be moving boxes around in the attic? So, I called out to them, wondering what they'd forgotten.

There was no answer.

So I looked outside and discovered their vehicle was missing. No kids at home. But the boxes moved around again. So I yelled to my husband to go up there and check things out. (Because, that's what he's here for, right? As a guy? Work with me.)

He got up and headed for the stairs before remembering the lights don't work over the stairs...or in the upstairs hallway. A coincidental happenstance that never fails to freak the family out. The wiring is old, but how convenient is it the lights don't work where the ghost hangs out? My thoughts, exactly. 

The husband decided not to check out the upstairs after all. And I guess I couldn't blame him, but it got me thinking. If my ghost is so interested in moving stuff around in my attic, why doesn't she just go down and organize my basement? That's a place that could use some serious organizing, and it's sorta scary down there. She's already dead, so what does she have to be afraid of, right?

I might have to get her to put away my Christmas decorations first...you know...work up (or down) to the basement gradually. Hey, it's just an idea.

Until the next time...I'll be steering clear of the upstairs until daylight.