This morning started out pretty normal. It was raining. I'd sent the kids off to school, and the house was dark and quiet. I was upstairs in the bedroom when all of a sudden, I heard a huge crash and something skittering across the tile floor. It's hard to figure out where sounds are coming from in this house. It has an open floor plan, and the living room has a cathedral ceiling that opens up into the loft office upstairs. It also has tile and hard wood floors throughout, so any little sound is magnified and tends to echo throughout the entire house. My first thought was "CRAP! Someone's in the house! Where on earth are they?????" My second thought was "It had better not be a ghost, because although I think it would be really cool to see one, I DON'T want to see one when I'm by myself!" (OK, I don't really believe in ghosts, but when you are locked up tight in a house alone, there is no way for someone else to be in there, and you hear a huge crash, your mind does some crazy stuff in the span of about 5 seconds!) I stood in the bedroom and listened. Nothing. Quietly, I tiptoed out the bedroom door and into the hall. Still nothing. Then I peeked over the railing and down the stairway. Hmmmm. Now things aren't looking quite so good any more. I can see part of my artificial tree (don't judge, I don't have a green thumb!) that normally sits in a pot in the alcove beside the stairs. It's laying on it's side. This is a pretty big tree, so it's hard to knock over. Now I'm thinking that someone might have somehow gotten in and hid behind the tree, then knocked it over when getting back out. Ugh! OK, I can handle this. I crept over to the other side of the balcony in the hallway and peeked over. Nothing. I don't hear anything, so I slowly descend the stairs. As I reach the bottom, I see that the crash I had heard was indeed the tree falling, and the skittering sounds were from the little clay lizards that were hanging onto the side of the pot (again, don't judge). The crash had sent them flying across the tile floor. I didn't see anyone there (living or ghostly), so that's a good thing. I started to head around the corner and check out the other rooms, when I noticed something. My Fall wreath that was hanging above the alcove is on the floor behind the tree. Oooooooohhhhhh. Things start to make sense. I didn't want to mess up the plaster and brick work there, so I had used a sticky hook to hang the wreath. Apparently sticky hook+humidity=falling wreath. The wreath was hanging above the tree, and when it dropped, it hit the top back part of the tree, sending it crashing forward to the ground. It's either that or the ghost is back up in the attic, giggling with his friends and trying to figure out what to do next to scare the crazy American. I'm going with option #1. I bet you thought today's little story was going to be something educational about the canal, didn't you? What on earth were you thinking?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Thursday
This morning started out pretty normal. It was raining. I'd sent the kids off to school, and the house was dark and quiet. I was upstairs in the bedroom when all of a sudden, I heard a huge crash and something skittering across the tile floor. It's hard to figure out where sounds are coming from in this house. It has an open floor plan, and the living room has a cathedral ceiling that opens up into the loft office upstairs. It also has tile and hard wood floors throughout, so any little sound is magnified and tends to echo throughout the entire house. My first thought was "CRAP! Someone's in the house! Where on earth are they?????" My second thought was "It had better not be a ghost, because although I think it would be really cool to see one, I DON'T want to see one when I'm by myself!" (OK, I don't really believe in ghosts, but when you are locked up tight in a house alone, there is no way for someone else to be in there, and you hear a huge crash, your mind does some crazy stuff in the span of about 5 seconds!) I stood in the bedroom and listened. Nothing. Quietly, I tiptoed out the bedroom door and into the hall. Still nothing. Then I peeked over the railing and down the stairway. Hmmmm. Now things aren't looking quite so good any more. I can see part of my artificial tree (don't judge, I don't have a green thumb!) that normally sits in a pot in the alcove beside the stairs. It's laying on it's side. This is a pretty big tree, so it's hard to knock over. Now I'm thinking that someone might have somehow gotten in and hid behind the tree, then knocked it over when getting back out. Ugh! OK, I can handle this. I crept over to the other side of the balcony in the hallway and peeked over. Nothing. I don't hear anything, so I slowly descend the stairs. As I reach the bottom, I see that the crash I had heard was indeed the tree falling, and the skittering sounds were from the little clay lizards that were hanging onto the side of the pot (again, don't judge). The crash had sent them flying across the tile floor. I didn't see anyone there (living or ghostly), so that's a good thing. I started to head around the corner and check out the other rooms, when I noticed something. My Fall wreath that was hanging above the alcove is on the floor behind the tree. Oooooooohhhhhh. Things start to make sense. I didn't want to mess up the plaster and brick work there, so I had used a sticky hook to hang the wreath. Apparently sticky hook+humidity=falling wreath. The wreath was hanging above the tree, and when it dropped, it hit the top back part of the tree, sending it crashing forward to the ground. It's either that or the ghost is back up in the attic, giggling with his friends and trying to figure out what to do next to scare the crazy American. I'm going with option #1. I bet you thought today's little story was going to be something educational about the canal, didn't you? What on earth were you thinking?
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Love this story!!! You had me hanging on every word!!
ReplyDeleteGlad you liked it. We'll be selling tickets to our haunted house this weekend. :0)
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