One Whipped Mother

They're Baaaaack!

More weirdness abounds in the Young household. We'd been relatively weirdness-free for the past two years, with the exception of my cat doing her "peering down the heating vent in my bedroom" thing, but alas, the weirdness is back with a vengeance. And this time, even Lar agrees that it's something odder than odd should ever be.

If you want to read a bit of background, please go here. There's another link in that post that will take you to my first post regarding weirdness.

In hindsight, I now realize that shit was about 1/4 inch from hitting the fan on New Year's Day. December had been a truly beautiful time for me, despite the bad, bad things that had gone on in recent months. Some of you know what I'm talking about, yeah? Anyway, beginning on January 1st, there definitely was a change of atmosphere, a palpable heaviness in the air. Everyone in the house seemed more on edge than usual, the kids whinier, easier to set off, Lar began brooding more than usual, and I felt an uneasiness, an irritation, a profound sadness...All of which I attributed to the end of the holidays, back to school, bills, and my mother's worsening condition.

Emotions are easily explained away.

But then, this morning, after Lar told me of last night's events, I recalled the very real, very cold, totally inexplicable breeze that blew over the left side of my body a few days ago. Seriously, it was a breeze, folks. An icy, forceful wind that made my sleeve push against my arm. I'd been standing at the wall table in the living room (the one in our addition -- the light bulb-exploding one I wrote about in the link above), dusting my brand new Egyptian knickknacks, gazing into the mirror above the table (I love myself way too much), when I felt that breeze just slam into me.

Okay, well, I thought to myself that although strange, it wasn't anything to think about for more than a minute, regardless of the fact that the kids were in their rooms, Lar was at work, and nobody had entered the home nor left. Doors were all locked, and it was a calm albeit cold afternoon -- no wind.

Aiiiiiii! That ghostie-thing was announcing its return, I guess, because this morning, Lar -- practical, stoic, skeptical, Stonehenge-headed Lar -- said to me, "Hear the ghost last night?"

Well, I just about dropped my coffee mug. "Huh? Whaaa...?"

"The ghost...You didn't hear it?"

"Uh...No? What the hell are you talking about?"

Impatient now, Lar raised his voice and gestured toward the hallway. "The damn ghost! You didn't hear all that noise last night?"

"Apparently not, else I would be screeching like a loon right about now."

According to Lar, around 4:00 this morning, he woke to banging noises coming from the main part of the house (our bedroom is in the addition), so he got up to investigate, figuring it was one of the kids, or the cat. Unfortunately, everyone was asleep, and the cat was in my oldest daughter's bedroom, which is right next to our bedroom.

Finding nothing, Lar heads on back to our room, but is stopped in his tracks by another loud bang/thump, then another. He could not figure out where they were coming from, as the thumps seemingly reverberated throughout that part of the house, including the game room/bar directly beneath. He searched high and low, went to the basement and up again, but found nothing.

So Lar, probably pooping his pants at that point (hee hee), went back to our bedroom, drowsed off, but was woken by sounds in OUR room now. (AAAAAAiiiiiiiii!!!!)

The cord on the back of our new flat screen TV, which sets on a highboy across from our bed, was thrashing wildly against the back of the highboy, as if, in Lar's words, "it was trying to get our attention."

Holy butthole! Strong words coming from a man who thinks I am mildly insane amusing with my strong belief in the paranormal.

In fact, if he knew I was making public his newfound belief (which, truth be told, most likely isn't all that strong -- he's just a bit spooked right now), he'd scowl really HARD at me and then not speak to me for, like, days.

Hopefully, the kids' toys won't go off in the middle of the night (a recurrent problem with us, beginning in our first home, when our firstborn was around two years old). Really, I simply hate that. Exploding light bulbs, televisions turning on and off, thrashing cords, thumps I can deal with, but toy cars and talking dolls having a party at three a.m.? Awful.

posted by Ms. Lori @ 8:39 AM