Wednesday, March 9, 2011

This not-so-old, creepy house of mine

This is a blog I imported from my Myspace account.   It's amazing how a person's writing style and overall concept of grammar can change in only a matter of three years.  Thankfully, my sarcasm has remained intact.  My house, by the way, has been visited by an empath since my writing of the events described below.  I didn't know she was empathic until she told me about the middle-aged man in my dining room.  I'm not sure how much of that I believe, but it does make for interesting dinner conversation.

Maybe there's some scientific explanation for some of the crazy crap that has been going on or maybe I'm just going nuts (both very real possibilities), but there are some things going on in my house that can only be described as weird. It started as a few little things; random objects would fall; I would hear something hit the floor behind me but then there would be nothing there when I turned around; weird crap like that. Not normal, but something I could adapt to. However, the events of the last two days have me freaking out and seriously considering a weapons permit. I'm not one that really believes in ghosts.  I think that it's all too convenient that those ghost hunters catch exactly what they want on camera when they're doing their little ghost hunting expeditions. In my opinion, ghosts, if they do exist, probably aren't attention whores like us living people.  Although, it would be funny to see a spirits gone wild video, ghost flashing the camera and stuff. But anyway, back to my story.  So I wake up at 2:30 this morning to Bailee screaming "mama" "mama"; not an uncommon occurrence. However, when I rolled out of bed I noticed that the light was on in the living room. Yeah, that wasn't on when I went to bed. The puppy is in her cage and Bailee is in her crib. How the Hell did that light get turned on?  At this point I'm wondering if the cat developed opposable thumbs and was staying up late planning world domination, because that's just the way my mind works. The house has like a million freakin' light switches for one light. I don't even know what switches go to what. So, my next thought was, who the Hell is in my house.

I jumped out of bed and ran to Bailee's room. I then quickly head back to my bedroom and lock the door with Bailee in bed with me. Obviously, I wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon so I laid in bed thinking about my plan of attack if there was an intruder in the house (this attack mostly consisted of me pissing myself). Eventually, I fell back asleep. Well, tonight I go to let the dog outside. There is a deadbolt to the door on the patio. Last night I tried to turn the deadbolt but the damn thing would not budge an inch so I did like I normally do when things get tough; I said "screw it" and went inside to find some chocolate. So anyway, I go to let the dog back in and low and behold I couldn't get the door open. Turns out the deadbolt was locked. I sure as Hell didn't lock it. So my question is, how did the door lock itself? All I know is that I'm about ready to make like MacGyver and rig something up or start sleeping with a knife of sorts (which will back fire when I impale myself in my sleep). I mean seriously is there an explanation for any of this? The house is only 3 years old and, to my knowledge, no one died in it. Although, the lady did have some freaky voodoo looking pictures hung up in the loft of which I took down. My next thought is whether or not Tamarac was built on an Indian burial ground because that would explain a lot.  Does homeowner's insurance cover shit like that.  My guess is probably not.  Damn insurance companies. 

I don't know but if whatever it is wakes me up again in the middle of the night it better watch its back as I'm a bitch when I don't get my sleep.

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