Ghosts In The Attic

I was home alone a couple of days ago. It was an overcast day, with very strong winds howling outside. It was one of those days that you're glad you aren't out there running around. I was being a good little housewife, and scrubbing the second floor bathroom. (Now those who know me really well are starting to think that this is one of those tall tales, but I really was scrubbing the bathroom. It happens. Rarely, but it does happen.) I was up to my elbows in Tilex when I heard a loud slam. I jumped. It sounded like it was my bedroom window, but I had already secured all the windows in the house, because the wind was blowing so hard. Still, I'm not one to hide from a problem, so I set out to see what it was. Off to the bedroom I went. Everything looked fine, but I double checked the window, just to be safe. Nothing amiss here. Maybe I had missed another window. I went through the entire house, checking windows and doors, but everything was locked up tight. I had just closed the curtain on the back sliding glass door when I heard the sound again. SLAM! OK, that's just creepy now. It sounded like it came from right above me--my bedroom. I knew for a fact that the window was locked, but what else could it be? I took off for the master bedroom to find out what the heck was going on. Everything looked perfectly normal! Ugh! I was starting to get a little paranoid, so I checked out every room again. I even looked in the garage. Slam! Now I'm concerned. Slam! This house is so open, and with all of the tile and hard wood floors, sound echoes everywhere. It's hard to figure out where the heck it's coming from. (Every horror movie I've ever seen is starting to come back to me. I'd love to see a ghost, but not in my house when I'm alone.) OK, I can figure this out. Finally, the brain clicks on. I head outside, so I can see all of the windows at the same time, and therefore figure out which one is open. Out the back I go, and then...I saw it. The attic window is ajar, and the sheer curtains are sticking out and blowing madly in the wind. It figures. The attic. Back inside and up to the second floor. Now I'm standing in the upstairs hallway, eying the attic door in the ceiling. You know the kind. You pull down the trap door and unfold the rickety ladder, so you can climb up into the dark, spider web filled attic. Questions start to fill my mind. Who would have been in the attic to open that window in the first place? Do I really want to go up there? Then I did what any self respecting adult in my place would have done. I waited for the 11 year old to get home from school, brought him to the bottom of the attic stairs, and said "You wait here for me and make sure nothing happens." (I didn't even mention what might have happened, but he's a smart kid, and if he had heard me screaming bloody murder, he probably would have figured out that meant go for help.) "Do you want me to go with you, Mom?" he asked. I'm going to have to raise his allowance. "I guess that would be OK", I said. Both of us knew I was being a big chicken, but it was nice that he didn't mention it out loud. Up the ladder we went and found our way to the back of the attic. I opened the window, fixed the curtains, and shut and locked the window securely. If the ghost was there, it was kind enough to stay hidden. Back down the ladder and to the safety of the hallway with a sigh of relief. Whew. I told the story to the hubby when he got home, and he, in turn told Jess when she arrived later on that night. Of course, in his version, when I looked up at the attic window, there was a figure standing there looking back. "You're freaking me out, Dad," she said. Not to worry, I told her. If that were true, I would have moved before she got home.

And I wouldn't have bothered to pack. I'd have just bought all new stuff. I'm just saying.