Resident Ghost

My house is haunted. Not that it worries me. The ghost is the one who convinced me to buy it. She can be troubling at times, but she usually just wanders around, drinking her coffee and teasing the dogs. Then there are the times when she is very helpful. Like the time, shortly after I moved in, when I woke up in the middle of the night because the dog was barking. I stumbled out of bed, still half asleep, and made my way out to the living room. I caught a whiff of coffee, my first sign that the ghost was around. I didn’t drink coffee. After eleven years, I have gotten so used to the smell of coffee, that I finally started drinking coffee. Then I noticed a glow. As I tried to wake up, it turned into a woman, dressed in a white bathrobe and holding her usual steaming coffee mug. She was waving at my daughter’s dog, who was barking. The dog turned around and put his paws on the windowsill. That’s when I noticed the window was open.

She can be a bit of a nag sometimes. Like last summer, I forgot there was a stack of newspapers sitting on the piano when I took out the recycling. It was raining and I didn’t want to go out to the curb again, so I said I would take them out next week. Well, next week I forgot again. It was a bright, warm evening, so I had no excuse when I again said I would take them out next week. Yes, I often talk to myself although if anyone asks, I am talking to the dog. I had just sat down on the couch and picked up my knitting when a movement caught my eye. As I watched, the stack of newspapers slid across the last few inches and fell off the piano. I got up and took them out.

So when I got a virus on my computer last week, my computer guy asked for the original program disks so he could wipe my computer and reload the programs. I went to the drawer where I keep such things. I found every disk for every computer and every program I ever had since, well, since computers were invented. Every one except the program disks for my laptop. I searched everywhere. I dug through stacks of fabric in my sewing room. I flipped through every book (all 2000 or so of them) and every video, DVD and CD.

Have I ever mentioned I have floor to ceiling shelves in every room, including the bathroom? And my bedroom “closet” is now a built-in bookshelf? Every inch of those shelves is filled to overflowing with books and other media. After two days of frantic searching, I gave up. I even told my cats so as I poured cat food into their dishes. And as I emptied the scoop into the last dish, I caught a whiff of coffee and the door to an armoire where I store board games opened and the program disks fell out.

I only wish I knew her name so I could thank her properly.