Life of the Lintee Bean

I have a new roommate.  A friend temporarily transferred to the employer’s Chicago office. I hope the transfer will become permanent.  I’ve been the only human in my household for a long time, but I’m enjoying the companionship of a roommate, and my house is certainly large enough for the two of us.  My roommate is getting accustomed to the rest of the house’s residents. I don’t mean the cats, she’s fine with the cats.  She’s learning to live with the house’s ghosts.

I know some people don’t believe in ghosts.  Honestly, I’m not sure what I believe myself.  I might seem as though I think I know everything.  Really I just know ALMOST everything.  There’s some things I can’t explain, including things that happen in my house.

It’s a really old house, built around 1898.  Maybe the people that lived here the past 110 years left behind some sort of residual energy.  Catholic grade school taught me there was a heaven, a hell, and a purgatory. Maybe purgatory, that place “in between” happens here on earth, including my house.

While I’m not sure what I have in my house, or why, it’s here, and I refer to it as my ghosts.  Fortunately, these aren’t SCARY ghosts.  These aren’t the ghosts that star in horror films.  While they sometimes speak, they never say (in ominous tones) “GET OUT OF THE HOUSE”.  Most of the time, they say “hello”.  Sometimes they say “goodbye”. A few times they’ve mumbled extended conversations.

There are long periods of time where the ghosts are quiet, and I don’t hear (or see) from them.  Then there are  flurries of activity.  It seems to get more active when there’s change.  Recently I rearranged the upstairs, switching the furniture between the two rooms.  That may have set things off, as they’ve been busy lately.  My  cleaning lady, Sam, has heard the ghosts a few times the past months.  The first time she was upstairs when she heard footsteps on the first floor, then someone say “hello”. She thought I’d come home from work early, but no one was here.  The next time, she was in the basement when she heard footsteps on the first floor. She crept up the stairs and waited right by the door until the footsteps were near, burst open the door, and nothing.

So far, my new roommate’s only noticed a couple things. She said she walked into a room to find the lights on, though she’s certain she turned them off earlier.  The cats generally get along with the ghosts fine.  Occasionally they sit and growl at something I can’t see, but most times they just sit and stare. Sometimes they even play with them. I’d chalk it up to usual crazy cat behavior, though once the ghost Kitty.com was playing with paused to say “hello”.

I actually like my ghosts.  Most of their activity directed toward me has been centered on getting me to work on time – turning on radios and alarms and shaking closet doors to get me out of bed.  Not everyone appreciates their presence. Shortly after I moved into the house, a sweet older Polish lady came to the house.  While she was there, the ghosts turned on my battery-operated kung-fu singing hamster.  This and my lack of explanation for it GREATLY unsettled the older woman, who was quite anxious to leave.

I do need to make certain little accommodations for the ghosts.  For example, wireless electronics often have problems and most won’t work at all in certain rooms. Sometimes things are moved from where I left them.  I consider it all part of the charm of an old house. I think my roommate sees it the same way.  She’s lived in old houses most of her life, and they come with things that creak and bump in the night, and day.

Submitted for publication in the Greeley Citizen

Previous post about the Ghosts and the Gate to Hell

see more Lolcats and funny pictures