I Don’t Believe in Ghosts, But…

GHOST CAT! (Photo credit: icadrews)

I had nothing to blog about today so I trawled through my December posts of Christmas past.  I came across what follows.  I thought it was worth re-posting because only two people commented on it at the time and I don’t remember writing it and I wonder now, given the subject matter, if I really did write it at all.

Decide for yourself…

December 8, 2009.

I had an odd few days: strange things happened.  The phone activated itself.  I opened the fridge to find the Titanic hitting an iceberg.

Iceberg Lettuce (Photo credit: joana hard)

Okay, I can explain that last one: the Hub drew a picture of a cruise ship on a lettuce packet for a joke; but the rest of the things are weird.

Last week, I accidentally locked the dog in the kitchen.  Or so I thought…I’m not now convinced that I did because I was certain at the time that I left the door ajar, and only took the blame because I was the last person in the kitchen before we went out that day.  I wouldn’t have thought any more of it if it wasn’t for other strange incidents.

We came home at 10:20p.m., on the day anyone/anything but me locked the dog in the kitchen, having collected Spud from a party.  At 10:40 I saw the phone light flashing to say it was in use; I checked it but there was no-one on the line.  The phone showed a time elapsed of 34 minutes, which means the call started at 10:06 – when the house was empty.

I woke up this morning to find my wristwatch on my bedside table: I wear it in bed and never take it off.  The Hub swears it wasn’t him.

I found coffee splashes on clean dishes in my cupboard – the Hub is the only one who drinks coffee but he never drinks it inside kitchen cupboards, not being small or agile enough to curl up in them.

Ghost (Photo credit: Pétur Gauti)

Just as I was beginning to think the Hub was playing tricks on me, I dreamt, one night over the weekend, that we caught a rat and ate it for dinner.  Next morning I woke to the news that some of the I’m A Celebrity contestants were to be prosecuted by the Australian authorities for catching and eating a rat.  Unless the Hub was whispering the story in my ears while I was sleeping, I don’t think he can be blamed for that one.

And he definitely can’t be blamed for  my Little Brother phoning (not odd in itself; we speak once a week).   I was surprised because I spoke to him on Saturday morning and it was only Tuesday.  In fact, he was a little off with me that Saturday, and I wondered if he was phoning to make amends.  When I mentioned my surprise, he mentioned his surprise because he swore that we hadn’t spoken since his birthday, ten days previously.  Yet I distinctly remember Saturday’s conversation.

I’d like to blame my husband, because that’s what they’re for, but I really can’t.  Tell me, am I demented, stressed, hallucinating, psychic or haunted?  I have always been a bit of a normal Norman and this freaked me out a little.  It is sterling work by who/whatever is doing it to me.  I can’t see the wood for the forest: please, someone, offer me a ray of light.  Tell me I’m going to wake up back where I belong, back on the Enterprise.

C&C Cartoon: Spooked by a “ghost” of a customer, PC-Friendly Version (Photo credit: CA Technologies)

What do you think?  I’m still here, three years later, so it wasn’t some malevolent force out to get me.  Think it was a poltergeist taking a holiday?  Or the Hub and Little Brother, ganging up on me?  All parties concerned strenuously deny any involvement…

UPDATE TWO HOURS LATER:

Before I published this post, I changed the grey text to black, as always, apart from the date, which I made red.  

Coming to check on comments, the text had reverted to grey.  

I swear I’m not kidding.

I’ve fixed it again.  Let’s see what happens.

The Twilight Zone

Is there anybody there...?

I have had an odd few days; strange things keep happening, whether it’s the phone activating itself, or opening the fridge to find the Titanic hitting an iceberg.  Okay, I can explain that last one: the Hub drew a picture of a cruise ship on a lettuce packet for a joke; but the rest of the things are weird.

I told you I accidentally locked the dog in the kitchen.  I’m not now convinced that I did because I was certain I left it ajar, and only took the blame because I was the last person in the kitchen before we went out that day.  I wouldn’t have thought any more of it if it wasn’t for the other strange incidents.  Let me explain:

We came home the other night at 10:20 (the day anyone/anything but me locked the dog in the kitchen), having collected Spud from a party.  At 10:40 I saw the phone light flashing to say it was in use; I checked it but there was no-one on the line.  The phone showed a time elapsed of 34 minutes, which means the call started at 10:06 – when the house was empty. 

I woke up on Sunday morning to find my wristwatch on my bedside table: I wear it in bed and never take it off.  The Hub swears it wasn’t him. 

I found coffee splashes on clean dishes in my cupboard – the Hub is the only one who drinks coffee but he never drinks it inside kitchen cupboards, not being small or agile enough to curl up in them. 

Just as I was beginning to think the Hub was playing tricks on me, I dreamt, one night over the weekend, that we caught a rat and ate it for dinner.  Next morning I woke to the news that some of the I’m A Celebrity contestants were to be prosecuted by the Australian authorities for catching and eating a rat.  Unless the Hub was whispering the story in my ears while I was sleeping, I don’t think he can be blamed for that one. 

And he definitely can’t be blamed for this morning: my Little Brother phoned (not odd in itself; we speak once a week).   I was surprised because I spoke to him on Saturday morning and it’s only Tuesday.  In fact, he was a little off with me that day, and I wondered if he was phoning to make amends.  When I mentioned my surprise, he mentioned his surprise because he swears we haven’t spoken since his birthday, ten days ago.  Yet I distinctly remember Saturday’s conversation. 

I’d like to blame my husband, because that’s what they’re for, but I really can’t.  Tell me, am I demented, stressed, hallucinating, psychic or haunted?  I have always been a bit of a normal Norman and this is freaking me out a little.  It is sterling work by who/whatever is doing it to me.  I can’t see the wood for the forest: please, someone, offer me a ray of light.  Tell me I’m going to wake up back where I belong, on the Enterprise.