I don't believe in ghosts. I mean, not in any rational way--I can't think of any logical, substantiated reason to believe in them. But I still get weirded out sometimes, and our house has been acting a little spooky lately. First, the toaster began growling and screaming. Then the radio, which doesn't even have working speakers, turned on at full volume and could not be turned off except by unplugging it. And today a light blew out, but when I returned from the coffee shop, it was turned on and fully operational.
None of this would really be that weird except it began the day we met our realtor.
That's right--we've never had any strange electrical phenomena happen during the six years of our tenancy at this duplex, not until we decided to bid the place adieu. The strangeness of the experience compounds all the feelings I have about moving to make me feel more melancholic and nostalgic about the move. It's easy to look at these strange occurrences and say "Hey! Even the house doesn't want us to move!"
Luckily, I spent yesterday painting at our new house. Despite being all alone, I kept feeling something bump into my leg, the way a dog or a cat will bump its head against your leg to get your attention and say hi. I can't help but think of the two beautiful collies that once lived in the house. Are their spirits letting me know that I'm welcome in their house?
I know there are no real ghost dogs in my new house, although there is certainly plenty of dog hair and a phantom dog aroma rising up out of the thirty-year-old carpet. I also know that light bulbs have troubles in their lives and old appliances are sometimes just weird. I am hoping that there are no serious electrical problems that are going to burn down the duplex any time too soon, since I still have all my stuff in it!
Yep, I know all of this stuff. But the part of me that still gets scared at movies or cry during the sad parts of books--the part of me that makes and loves stories--that part of me wants to go play with the ghost dogs.