We've been living in the new house for almost two weeks. Initially, we were moving so many things in, it didn't really give me time to think and make sense of our new surroundings.
We were so focused on getting everything in. Then we were focused on getting our belongings unpacked - for good.
It hit me the other day that I'm not exactly comfortable in this house.
I can't quite put my finger on it.
This place doesn't really feel like mine yet.
At first, I thought it was because we haven't painted yet, so I picked out a few paint swatches and stuck them on the walls to start thinking about colors.
Then, I figured it out.
There's a ghost in here.
Yep, don't shake your head at me because I'm pretty certain there is a ghost in this house. Maybe several.
The house is old which makes it very possible that someone has died in it in the last 80 years. It has a funky crawl space that is the actual attic, so it's even more possible that someone was locked in it and died. (Yes, my mind goes there.) Lastly, I swear closets are opening by themselves and there are no gusts on wind anywhere near the doors.
See? I've convinced you, too.
When I came to this realization, I shared it with the BF and he looked at me, then rolled his eyes and said I've watched one too many Lifetime movies. True that.
But today when I walked in from work today, I barely got a "Hi" in before he said, "Babe, I think we a ghost." And, I didn't even need to say, "I told you so."
Maybe I should call this lady for advice?
UPDATE: When I slammed a drawer this morning in my dresser that's on the same wall, the door popped open. (Mind you, the dresser isn't up against the wall either.) Guess the ghost doesn't like the door latched?