Yesterday Mister and I were working in the garage. We were both wearing masks (a lot of dust was kicked up), goggles (a lot of stuff was falling from the rafters) and gloves (we have delicate hands – just kidding, there were a lot of splinters). In short, we looked like we were cooking meth. Not our best look, but who were we gonna see?

 

At one point, Mister was in the garage rafters and I was down below, cleaning. The garage door was open to let in some light. Just as I was finishing sweeping, a car pulled up to the driveway and the passenger called out, “Hello! I used to live here!”

 

I walked over and started chatting with her and her friend. Mister joined us and the conversation continued. She asked whether or not certain things were still in the house, and we told her about the changes. Then she asked, “Have you had any ghosts show up?”

 

Mister hasn’t experienced anything unexplainable. I’ve asked him a few times, and so far – nada. I, on the other hand, have been sitting still in the rumpus room, or folding laundry in the bedroom, and a sweet perfume has drifted through the air. No reason, and the scent’s been unfamiliar. Those few incidents aren’t too odd. But then there was that one day, when I was sitting on the couch in the rumpus room and a person moved – right in front of me. Only I was alone in the house. But the movement was so clear and so real, I didn’t doubt for a second that I’d actually seen it. At that time, I did the only thing I could. I loudly said, “Hey! I don’t care if you want to be here, but leave me alone!” I haven’t seen anything since.

 

When the old caretaker of the new pad heard these stories, she said there had been more than a few times when they heard strange noises in the house. She also said that once, when she was sitting still in the rumpus room, all of a sudden there was a ton of commotion on the pool table beside her sofa. She said it was as if someone was jumping up and down on the pool table, causing noise and movement. On another occasion, she said her husband woke her in the middle of the night, complaining about the old lady sitting on his feet at the end of the bed. I immediately asked which room they had slept in and when she told me, I was mighty glad we use that room as an office. She went on to tell us that an elderly lady had died in the house many, many years ago.

 

After sharing ghost stories, we invited her to come back some time to visit the house, then we all said our good-byes. She and her friend drove away, and Mister and I went back to garage work. It never once occurred to us that our appearance may have seemed a bit wiggy. Anh. Who cares?

 

But we do care about the old caretaker’s tales. And we’ve decided we’re okay with making nice with any spirits that may need to linger at the new pad. Really. It’s okay if they want to be here. They just need to leave us alone.

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