Okay, I stole away for a little bit today, sending Mr. Clean with the spawnlings to Doodlebug's baseball photo shoot and then they're all supposed to go try out the new batting cages just opened down the road. Free at last! Free. At. Last!
Seriously... I'm really close to baseball overload. This Team Mom thing is... it's... TIRING. I'm all wore out from answering my phone every two seconds in order to answer questions that don't need to be asked. I'll say it one more time: If you don't hear from me, it's SAFE to assume that practice (or game, or whatever else) is ON and at the same time as last week... and the week before that.. and the week before that.
Whew. Now that I've gotten that out of my system...
A couple of weeks back, I was sitting at my desk here at home plogging away at work like a good little worker bee when I heard footsteps on my back porch. I did a quick glance at the clock in my taskbar because... hello... how did I lose that many hours? Sure enough, the clock showed that Shaggy was not supposed to be home for another hour and a half. I waited a moment, thinking it was Mr. Clean's Dad come to borrow, ask, or tell something. But... he never walked in. With a heavy sigh, I got up from the desk and walked through the utility room to the back door.
No one was there.
I thought, "Great. Now I'm hearing things," closed the utility room door, and plonked myself back down in front of the computer. A few minutes later... more footsteps. Distinct footsteps, clogging their way up the back porch steps. You don't mistake the sound of shoes on wood. Big. Stompy. Footsteps.
And then... nothing.
I got back up, went back through the utility room and looked out the window on the door. NOTHING. I peered side to side, making sure no one was hiding just out of view, ready to jump me, and then slowly opened the door and looked around. No. One.
I called the dogs, to make sure it wasn't them I was hearing. They both sped around the side of the house and raced up the steps. Certainly not their footsteps I was hearing and they didn't seem bothered so it was safe to assume no one was meandering about my yard, ready to rape, rob, and kill me.
After giving them each a bone and a few pats on the head, I went back inside and settled back down to work. Working... working.... working...
About ten minutes later, just as I was getting re-focused... I heard footsteps on the back porch AND something that sounded like my back door knob rattling. Holy Freaking Fruitbat!!! My heart in my throat, I got up, opened the utility room door a crack and peeeeeeeeked through to the back door. NOTHING!!
Totally creeped out at this point, absolutely sure I was Not insane, losing my mind, or on drugs... I called Mr. Clean:
Me: I need you home, NOW.
Him: Why? What's wrong? What happened?
Me: Now. Seriously. Shut down the computer. Make whatever excuses you need to. Get. Home. Now.
Him: Are the boys giving you crap again? Do I need to talk them about leaving you alone to work?
Me: They're not home. Home. Now.
Him: Okay... slowwwwww down and tell me what the problem is.
Me: We have a GHOST at the back door. It's walking up and down the steps and now it's rattling the door knob!!! It's not the dogs! It's not the kids! It's not someone come to kill me. It's a freaking ghost and I... I... I can't breathe.
Him (trying not to laugh): A ghost?
Me: Yes. A ghost. Come to get me.
Him: There are no ghosts at our house.
Me: There is!! I keep hearing footsteps but there's no one there. And the door knob.. it Rattled like someone was trying to get in!
Him: Did you see the door knob move?
Me: Hell no I didn't see it move. I'm not sitting out there going "Here ghosty, ghosty!"
Him: Okay, calm down. I'm sure there's a rational explanation.
Me: Yes. There is. A ghost is on my back porch and you need to come home and make it go away!
Him: Where's Schatzi?
Me: Why would I know where the psycho cat is? You let her out this morning, didn't you?
Him: No.
Me: Well she's not in the house. I haven't seen her all day. And besides... 8 lbs of schizophrenic fur do not a ghost make.
* sounds coming from the utility room *
Me: Oh God.. it's doing it... right now! Please come home. Please?!
Him: Call the cat.
Me: FINE. *call the cat*
* sounds coming from the utility room *
I go to check in the dryer (you never know!) but there's no cat. Except, while I was in there... I heard rattling again.
Me: Hold on, I'm putting the phone down.
* a minute later *
Me: Fine. You're right. I'm wrong. There's no ghost at the back door.
Him: The cat?
Me: YES. You locked her in the damn closet again! She was knocking your boot puller against the back wall and rattling the door knob to get out.
Him (laughing): Just wait until I tell the guys up here about this. Classic!
So... not quite a ghost but she sure had me going for a while there.
Seriously... I'm really close to baseball overload. This Team Mom thing is... it's... TIRING. I'm all wore out from answering my phone every two seconds in order to answer questions that don't need to be asked. I'll say it one more time: If you don't hear from me, it's SAFE to assume that practice (or game, or whatever else) is ON and at the same time as last week... and the week before that.. and the week before that.
Whew. Now that I've gotten that out of my system...
A couple of weeks back, I was sitting at my desk here at home plogging away at work like a good little worker bee when I heard footsteps on my back porch. I did a quick glance at the clock in my taskbar because... hello... how did I lose that many hours? Sure enough, the clock showed that Shaggy was not supposed to be home for another hour and a half. I waited a moment, thinking it was Mr. Clean's Dad come to borrow, ask, or tell something. But... he never walked in. With a heavy sigh, I got up from the desk and walked through the utility room to the back door.
No one was there.
I thought, "Great. Now I'm hearing things," closed the utility room door, and plonked myself back down in front of the computer. A few minutes later... more footsteps. Distinct footsteps, clogging their way up the back porch steps. You don't mistake the sound of shoes on wood. Big. Stompy. Footsteps.
And then... nothing.
I got back up, went back through the utility room and looked out the window on the door. NOTHING. I peered side to side, making sure no one was hiding just out of view, ready to jump me, and then slowly opened the door and looked around. No. One.
I called the dogs, to make sure it wasn't them I was hearing. They both sped around the side of the house and raced up the steps. Certainly not their footsteps I was hearing and they didn't seem bothered so it was safe to assume no one was meandering about my yard, ready to rape, rob, and kill me.
After giving them each a bone and a few pats on the head, I went back inside and settled back down to work. Working... working.... working...
About ten minutes later, just as I was getting re-focused... I heard footsteps on the back porch AND something that sounded like my back door knob rattling. Holy Freaking Fruitbat!!! My heart in my throat, I got up, opened the utility room door a crack and peeeeeeeeked through to the back door. NOTHING!!
Totally creeped out at this point, absolutely sure I was Not insane, losing my mind, or on drugs... I called Mr. Clean:
Me: I need you home, NOW.
Him: Why? What's wrong? What happened?
Me: Now. Seriously. Shut down the computer. Make whatever excuses you need to. Get. Home. Now.
Him: Are the boys giving you crap again? Do I need to talk them about leaving you alone to work?
Me: They're not home. Home. Now.
Him: Okay... slowwwwww down and tell me what the problem is.
Me: We have a GHOST at the back door. It's walking up and down the steps and now it's rattling the door knob!!! It's not the dogs! It's not the kids! It's not someone come to kill me. It's a freaking ghost and I... I... I can't breathe.
Him (trying not to laugh): A ghost?
Me: Yes. A ghost. Come to get me.
Him: There are no ghosts at our house.
Me: There is!! I keep hearing footsteps but there's no one there. And the door knob.. it Rattled like someone was trying to get in!
Him: Did you see the door knob move?
Me: Hell no I didn't see it move. I'm not sitting out there going "Here ghosty, ghosty!"
Him: Okay, calm down. I'm sure there's a rational explanation.
Me: Yes. There is. A ghost is on my back porch and you need to come home and make it go away!
Him: Where's Schatzi?
Me: Why would I know where the psycho cat is? You let her out this morning, didn't you?
Him: No.
Me: Well she's not in the house. I haven't seen her all day. And besides... 8 lbs of schizophrenic fur do not a ghost make.
* sounds coming from the utility room *
Me: Oh God.. it's doing it... right now! Please come home. Please?!
Him: Call the cat.
Me: FINE. *call the cat*
* sounds coming from the utility room *
I go to check in the dryer (you never know!) but there's no cat. Except, while I was in there... I heard rattling again.
Me: Hold on, I'm putting the phone down.
* a minute later *
Me: Fine. You're right. I'm wrong. There's no ghost at the back door.
Him: The cat?
Me: YES. You locked her in the damn closet again! She was knocking your boot puller against the back wall and rattling the door knob to get out.
Him (laughing): Just wait until I tell the guys up here about this. Classic!
So... not quite a ghost but she sure had me going for a while there.
Darn cat! Woulda been so cool for you to have a real ghost. Assuming it wasn't an evilly sort anyway. Not that I believe in them, just reserving my judgement........he.
This area has always been a magnet for ghost stories and the kids are always joking about things around the house being moved or going missing. I always say it's the faeries... they always say the ghost did it. And I laugh. But when I thought I had a real one on the back porch... ha ha ha... not so funny. At the time, at least. *grin*