I've never been one to believe in ghosts or the like, but then I certainly won't deny the possibility. I've been known to tell stories others have told me about the friendly ghosts--I like to call them haints--that live in a house I once lived in. Winston, my almost-brother, saw them in the living room, and good friend Anne reported they woke her when she was sleeping in the guest room. So I'm always in a state of uncertainty, but lately I'm beginning to believe there's one--or at least a poltergeist--in my house.
A tiny unimportant thing this morning convinced me--I couldn't find the yellow dishrag that I used last night. I looked everywhere, even in the trash, but it has simply vanished. I'd attribute that to a senior moment, but there was yesterday morning when I found the grocery list I keep on my desk in the middle of the living room floor. Okay, there's a possibility that I carried a sheaf of recipes from my desk to the bedroom, picked that up by mistake, and it fell out--but I don't really believe that.
So far, this is the list of mysteriously missing items at my house:
1 yellow dishrag
1 paper-clipped sheaf of recipes with a menu plan attached
1 grey T-shirt that I really loved wearing
3 strands of fetish necklaces, intertwined--also much loved
This morning I almost thought I'd lost my pink sweatshirt jacket, but I found it--I'd hung it in the wrong closet. Also, by thoroughly cleaning a closet, I found my favorite gray sweat jacket. But those other items? I have searched and searched and they are nowhere.
And there's another kind of presence in my house--in the moirnings I frequently wake with the sense that someone else, someone friendly and protective, is sleeping in my house. Sometimes of course I know that it's Jacob tucked in his bed in the family room, but other times I most often think it's my mom, who's been gone twenty-four years. And for just an instant I think I am in my bed in the house in Madison Park, where I grew up, and Mom is just in the next room. It's a comforting feeling, but I don't know what a psychiatrist would make of it.
Mom, however, would not steal my favorite gray T-shirt or my fetish necklaces, and she had enough recipes of her own that she wouldn't want mine--in fact some of mine are from her. As for the dishrag--go figure!
I'm enjoying Jacob's vacation, perhaps more than he is. I took a delicious long late afternoon nap today instead of rushing to nap so I can get up at 2:45 to run meet him in the schoolyard. Love it on a dull rainy chilly day like today.
If I weren't very frustrated by phone problems, I'd be a happy camper. I took some pictures this morning with both phone and camera that I wanted to send off with a guest blog tonight. Went to download them from the camera and discovered that Sophie, in her worst chewing stage, had mangled the cord that goes from camera to USB port. So I sent them to myself from my phone--but they just stacked up in unsent items, although I can send email and text messages. A lengthy talk with TCU Help Desk this morning straightened out my email problems but even a talk with Apple support and a forty-five minute session with ATT didn't solve the picture problem. It's like my pictures are frozen in my camera and phone. Maybe it's that polergeist.
A tiny unimportant thing this morning convinced me--I couldn't find the yellow dishrag that I used last night. I looked everywhere, even in the trash, but it has simply vanished. I'd attribute that to a senior moment, but there was yesterday morning when I found the grocery list I keep on my desk in the middle of the living room floor. Okay, there's a possibility that I carried a sheaf of recipes from my desk to the bedroom, picked that up by mistake, and it fell out--but I don't really believe that.
So far, this is the list of mysteriously missing items at my house:
1 yellow dishrag
1 paper-clipped sheaf of recipes with a menu plan attached
1 grey T-shirt that I really loved wearing
3 strands of fetish necklaces, intertwined--also much loved
This morning I almost thought I'd lost my pink sweatshirt jacket, but I found it--I'd hung it in the wrong closet. Also, by thoroughly cleaning a closet, I found my favorite gray sweat jacket. But those other items? I have searched and searched and they are nowhere.
And there's another kind of presence in my house--in the moirnings I frequently wake with the sense that someone else, someone friendly and protective, is sleeping in my house. Sometimes of course I know that it's Jacob tucked in his bed in the family room, but other times I most often think it's my mom, who's been gone twenty-four years. And for just an instant I think I am in my bed in the house in Madison Park, where I grew up, and Mom is just in the next room. It's a comforting feeling, but I don't know what a psychiatrist would make of it.
Mom, however, would not steal my favorite gray T-shirt or my fetish necklaces, and she had enough recipes of her own that she wouldn't want mine--in fact some of mine are from her. As for the dishrag--go figure!
I'm enjoying Jacob's vacation, perhaps more than he is. I took a delicious long late afternoon nap today instead of rushing to nap so I can get up at 2:45 to run meet him in the schoolyard. Love it on a dull rainy chilly day like today.
If I weren't very frustrated by phone problems, I'd be a happy camper. I took some pictures this morning with both phone and camera that I wanted to send off with a guest blog tonight. Went to download them from the camera and discovered that Sophie, in her worst chewing stage, had mangled the cord that goes from camera to USB port. So I sent them to myself from my phone--but they just stacked up in unsent items, although I can send email and text messages. A lengthy talk with TCU Help Desk this morning straightened out my email problems but even a talk with Apple support and a forty-five minute session with ATT didn't solve the picture problem. It's like my pictures are frozen in my camera and phone. Maybe it's that polergeist.
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