Ghost In The House

I'm dead serious.

Well ... serious. This thing thinks it's funny to scare the crap out of me. (Only for the moment.) The first time we noticed it was about two months ago. I work late at night, usually. The house is quieter, I can think more clearly when there are no phones, TV noise, Mikey interruptions. So, it's late and Michael is already in bed, but still awake with the bedroom door closed and his TV on low. I'm in my office with the door open, the rest of the house is dark. Suddenly, across the hall from my office -in a dark bathroom- my hair dryer (which is plugged into the wall) comes on.

I think, what the hell is he doing up using my hairdryer? Michael hears it and thinks what the hell is she doing using her hairdryer this time of night? I roll my chair back, look across the hall, the bathroom is dark, the hairdryer is running. Now you have to see this hairdryer. It's a Vidal Sassoon with knobs that give your thumb a bruise every time you roll it on. Maybe because it's new. But it's still a tough push with your thumb to roll it on or to roll it two clicks to HIGH. Which is exactly where it was. Rolled to HIGH.

Next incident - I'm working late at night, Michael has gone to bed, turned his laptop off and unplugged it. We share an office, his desk is in the opposite corner of the room, so our backs are together when we work. Needless to say, I'm working away on edits of Southern Fried Women, and I hear his laptop come on. I look over and there's a picture of me on the monitor --- his screen saver. I'm thinking that's unusual, he went to bed without turning off his computer. I keep on working, say to myself that I'll turn it off when I go to bed, then a while later I realize it's off. I look down ... it's unplugged. I shake my head, thinking about the hairdryer, and keep working. Moments later it flips back on again ... showing my picture on the monitor. I kid you not.

Third incident - I'm standing in my bedroom by the closet. The only time we watch TV in the bedroom is at night. You have to use the remote and one button turns these on by holding it down. First the cable box turns on then the TV. It's sometime after dinner, I'm looking in my closet for something, and the cable box and TV snap on. By themselves.

Fourth incident - Michael's cousin comes to stay with us, and the walking sticks we have displayed in the room she uses, (which haven't moved for a couple years - shame on us) suddenly fall over in the middle of the night.

Fifth incident - I walk into the kitchen, my mother-in-law is watching TV while fixing dinner. The TV goes haywire. We both think it's the cable acting up as it has been known to do. We think nothing of it. I go back to my office. The fuzzies on the TV stop. Later, I walk back into the kitchen. It does it again. We think nothing of it. I walk out, the TV goes back to normal. Third time, it happens again, we look at each other ... the TV in the family room is also on but is not doing what the kitchen TV is doing and they're on the same channel! It stops when I leave the room.

Sixth incident - Michael's in the livingroom, I'm (where else) in the office writing. All of a sudden I hear the TV blaring in the bedroom. It come on by itself and is turned up extremely loud. Guess what's on? A televangelist, no less. We NEVER watch that channel. This incident bugged me for days. My book, Televenge, is about the dark side of televangelism.

Most recent incident - Last evening. I'm in the bathroom, getting ready to go to a book signing at Barnes & Noble, and I try to open the door to leave the bathroom. It won't open. I'm locked in. The door can only be locked from the inside. It's one of those that you just push the button on the knob. But it's NOT locked. The button is up. But the door won't open. I BANG on the door. The dogs go crazy, Mike is working-he's not home, my mother-in-law starts kicking the door trying to get me out, I'm thinking maybe I can squeeze out the window, but even though the house is a ranch, it's still a drop to the ground. We're freaking out by now.

Finally, I holler for her to go to the tool box in the garage and get me a phillips screwdriver - "Shove it under the door, Mama! I'll take off the door knob." Me being the physically challenged person that I am around tools, I finally manage to get the door knob off after five minutes of being all thumbs. But it still won't open! Damn it! My hands are greasy, my hairdo is gone, I back up and slide down the wall. I'm going to spend the rest of my life in the bathroom!

Finally, I tell her to slide a flathead screwdriver under the door. Bada Bing! I pop the hinges off and tell her to push the door in from her side. She does (the dogs are still going crazy at this point) and the door - yay - comes entirely off. We stand there looking at each other, sweat pouring down our faces, our eyes as big as half dollars ... drained. What would've happened had I been alone in the house? I suppose a bubble bath, a pedicure, and possible cleaning out the medicine cabinet I've been putting off, would've been involved.

Okay ... enough is enough. This haint has to go. They say Southerners own their haints. I don't know where I picked this one up. But it's not funny anymore.

Am I scared? Well, it does give you the heebie geebies, but NO, I recognize these things. I know what it is ... my mother had all kinds of experiences in her lifetime. Enough to fill a book. Some people will read or hear about this and think we're crazy, and that "everything can be explained away." Typical reactions to the unexplained. For centuries.

I have to laugh. You can say that all you want, until it happens to you. Then you explain it and let me know what you come up with. Ha!

I've heard it follows families. It really does not scare me ... like I said, my mother has been dealing with it all her life, kind of like diabetes or a hearing loss. Do I believe in ghosts? Not sure what it is. I just know these things don't just happen. There is another realm of existence out there. There is the unexplainable. Whether people want to admit it or not. All I know is that ever since I started writing about my family's history ... weird stuff has happened.

Maybe it's my grandma. Who knows. I know I have authority over it, I know we laugh about it a lot, and I know ... it just may be trying to tell me something. I went to the book signing anyway and everything was fine.

Perhaps, there's a local ghostbuster team I can call?

Blessings to you and yours.