It's an old house. Oddly shaped rooms; old-fashioned, leaded-glass windows; a few interior doorways without doors; twisting halls usable only as wall space for bookcases. A puzzling doorbell button outside the den (where I'm composing this post) connected to no actual doorbell. Lots of strange creaks in the night, not to mention squirrels running across the roof, the occasional rats in the walls, the closet door in my bedroom that often makes a slamming noise when I step out of bed in the morning, and -- of course -- the ever-intrusive raccoons.
Normal stuff.
But ghosts? No. Not in the twenty-five years I've lived here. Never.
Until now.
My housecleaning service called this morning. The manager was apologetic. My latest cleaning woman, with me only since my August 3 blog on the subject, is flying the coop. The reason? My house's "paranormal activities." She put up with it, she says, for one four-hour visit. The odd noises. Noises without plausible explanation. Noises that paused only when she yelled at them, demanding that they stop.
But her last visit was too much. The angry sound of someone pounding on the keys of my piano. The "cold room" -- the room frigid beyond any natural explanation. The "dark mass" she watched move toward the electric outlet and disconnect the cord of the vacuum cleaner she was using. Who could blame her? She's outta here.
The manager was apologetic, as I say, but also somewhat curious -- humorously, but nervously curious. Perhaps, I had encountered phenomena of this kind before? Heard other complaints? No, you say? In going back through the service's records, it appears that, about two years ago, another cleaning woman had declined to work further in my house for exactly the same reason -- odd, inexplicable occurrences that scared the bejesus out of her.
I, of course, initially suspected this to be merely a pretext. She just didn't like cleaning my house. But following the first time she cleaned my house, in August, the service routinely interviewed her about any problems she experienced working at my house that she wanted to discuss. The cleaner reported that she loved my house, enjoyed working here, and was happy to continue with me as a client. Then -- during her next visit or two -- things began to happen.
The manager has had a long, in-depth face-to-face meeting with the service's employee.
My housecleaner knows I've lived here a long time, and have had no problems. She argues that, perhaps, she's more sensitive to the spiritual world than I am. Or that the spirits who've lived amicably with me (wholly unbeknownst to me, yea, these 25 years) for unknown reasons hate and despise her. Whatever. She's had enough. She ain't coming back.
And so, the search is on for another housecleaner.
If this were a movie, of course, you'd all be yelling at me to move out. Now! While I still have my sanity and my life. Call upon Ghostbusters! Consult with a priest!
But I'm a child of the Enlightenment. Everything has a natural explanation. I certainly wouldn't be suspicious just because my pregnant wife had a sudden craving to wear a tannis root charm. I'd even go down into the dark cellar without a flashlight if I heard weird noises. I'd even kee ........oh ... oh no !!!!!!!!! it can't be!! ............... aaaaaaghhhh!
" .... qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et saeculum per ignem."
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