Ghost in the House

black-and-white-blur-close-up-237205I’m pretty sure my house is haunted. And I’m pretty sure I know exactly who is haunting it.

As ghosts go, Mister Man is not so bad. He doesn’t move stuff around or make lights flicker on or off. He doesn’t show up very often, and when he does, he’s pretty subtle. In fact, I’m pretty sure that I’m the only one who hears him.

So last week, I had a flooding-in-the-basement issue. And sure enough, Mister Man started yelling. “Cathy!” he hollered. “It’s time to move! Find a nice, cozy place, okay?”

But when I told the Junior Halls–any Junior Hall, I’m not picky– that I wanted to get a Tiny House and park it in their backyard because their father was haunting me and wanted me to move, they implied that I was crazy. “Besides,” said practical daughter, “a tiny house can still have problems.”

That’s true, I guess, but in a tiny house, I’d know immediately when they happened. Which brings me to my post over at the Muffin, “October Scare (Or Recognizing the Blessing in Disguise).”

Anyway, the basement’s dry now and Mister Man’s gone quiet on getting me to move. So I’ve got a few financial matters I’ve been putting off and it’s time to sit down at the desk and tackle them.Β  But first, humor me. Am I the only one hearing that yelling?


7 thoughts on “Ghost in the House

  1. I’ll never call you crazy, and you know why. πŸ™‚ Also, I think you should listen to those whispers . . . or hollering, as the case may be.

    I had never actually seen a real Tiny House until recently. There’s a row of them behind the restaurant in Sarasota where we play trivia on Tuesday nights. I’ve yet to go inside one, but now I’d really like to, just to see how the space is utilized. Pretty cute.

    • I’m totally fascinated by the tiny house movement, Lisa! And there are days when I’m totally convinced I could live in a tiny house. But then I look around at my bulging bookshelves and rows of boots and think, hmmm…maybe I should reconsider. πŸ™‚

    • Oh, Libby would have plenty of room, Sioux. She’s a miniature dachshund and spends most of the time squinched up in a ball under a couple of blankets. In fact, Libs would LOVE a tiny space. And I can write just about anywhere but…yeah. See above re: boots and books. πŸ™‚

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