Outdoor facilities in Orleans at Mom & Dad’s place. This photo has nothing to do with the story.
I think a ghost has moved in.
Twice last weekend I was sure I could hear someone bumping around downstairs.
Our house has a basement that is accessible only through a door in the garage. Well, there are some tiny windows so I guess an extremely tiny person or maybe Tooms (Great, like I need that idea in my head) could fit through there.
The basement is the Bobman Cave and he has his computer and TV and work stuff and ten tons of other crap down there. If I hear something downstairs I assume it is him.
Also, I have really amazing ears.
Examples of things I can hear in the basement when I’m upstairs: shower dripping, Bob’s phone on vibrate in a jacket pocket, Bob’s music through his headphones if he leaves his music on and Bob snoring.
This first time I heard the noise downstairs I thought Bob had come home and I just hadn’t heard him drive up. A half hour later he drove up and came in the house and I thought, “Huh, that was weird I thought he was downstairs.”
The second time I heard the noise downstairs I went and checked to see if his car was there. It was not.
Then I freaked myself out because what the hell was going on down there? Here’s how I handled it. I opened the garage door so the meth-head robbers could easily get out. The meth-head robbers theory was the best I could do while panicked.
First of all, we have nothing worth stealing so I feel sorry for the meth-head who breaks into our house. All that work for nothing. I don’t have fancy jewelry. We never have any cash. Our electronicy gadgets are all ancient. We have a little metal tin filled with change (but not very many quarters because we use them for parking and bus fare) and a few Euro notes from our trip. I’m not sure how much meth costs but I don’t think a half pound of pennies and nickels is going to go too far.
Second, how did the meth-heads get in there? They either slithered through the tiny windows, or my other theory was that they hurried and sneaked in while Bob was backing the car out.
Regardless, I heard something down there so I opened the garage door so they could escape. (Or invite over more meth-heads!) And I put my cellphone in my pocket and I read the newspaper by the door so I could run out really fast if they tried to come in and slash my throat.
Bob came home a few minutes later and I said, “I heard something downstairs.”
He said, “Well someone left the garage door open.”
I said, “That was me, I wanted them to escape.”
He said, “Uh, okay. I’ll go check on it.”
There was no one down there.
So now I think we have a ghost.