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This could totally be related to the other thread I just posted about taking things home from the cemetery but weird things started happening before then, and the last house we lived in had weird shit happening, too.
Like at that house, my chapstick disappeared out of my pants pocket and reappeared under the bed, which is almost 2 feet off the floor and never had anything under it, so there's no way I could have missed it in my searches. That could be attributed to the cats, but other weird shit happened, like one morning, Incog was getting ready to go to the store, and found his sneakers tied to my hiking boots. He hates even innocuous pranks (damn Libras) so I don't do shit like that. One day we were watching TV, and the cats were laying on the furniture with us, and stuff just started falling off the counters in the kitchen. Lights flickered. I kept one of those draft blockers in front of the basement door but we'd often find it open. We had a camera in the basement bc it flooded in spring, and we'd get up in the morning and see that someone had turned the basement lights on and off.
It's been slow here, but it seems to be ramping up. Before I brought home the hydrangeas, I put away the electric griddle wrong bc I was in a hurry, fully intending to fix it later, but I never got around to fixing it. Went to get it to make breakfast a few days later, and it was put away right. Incog wouldn't even know what "put the griddle away wrong" means (I might be a little anal), and he doesn't mess with stuff in my kitchen. He was taking a shower the other day, and the lights flickered. Hasn't done it before or since. While he was in the shower another time, I heard footsteps on the stairs and something in the closet. Both cats were asleep. The boy cat always sleeps with me for some part of the night, but hasn't the past two nights. Our closets have latches that are tough to open, and the doors close pretty tightly and have to be pulled pretty hard to open. This morning, when we woke up, one was open.
It's either me or the house. If it's the house, I've lived in at least 4 haunted houses in my life. My first memorable experience was when I was in my early twenties (before I met Incog), and was home alone. We had a shelf of jars over the dryer and I heard them all just fall off the shelf. I assumed the shelf fell, but when I went in there, the shelf was still very firmly attached to the wall and it looked like someone just swept the jars off with their arm.
So. Me or the houses? What do you think?
Like at that house, my chapstick disappeared out of my pants pocket and reappeared under the bed, which is almost 2 feet off the floor and never had anything under it, so there's no way I could have missed it in my searches. That could be attributed to the cats, but other weird shit happened, like one morning, Incog was getting ready to go to the store, and found his sneakers tied to my hiking boots. He hates even innocuous pranks (damn Libras) so I don't do shit like that. One day we were watching TV, and the cats were laying on the furniture with us, and stuff just started falling off the counters in the kitchen. Lights flickered. I kept one of those draft blockers in front of the basement door but we'd often find it open. We had a camera in the basement bc it flooded in spring, and we'd get up in the morning and see that someone had turned the basement lights on and off.
It's been slow here, but it seems to be ramping up. Before I brought home the hydrangeas, I put away the electric griddle wrong bc I was in a hurry, fully intending to fix it later, but I never got around to fixing it. Went to get it to make breakfast a few days later, and it was put away right. Incog wouldn't even know what "put the griddle away wrong" means (I might be a little anal), and he doesn't mess with stuff in my kitchen. He was taking a shower the other day, and the lights flickered. Hasn't done it before or since. While he was in the shower another time, I heard footsteps on the stairs and something in the closet. Both cats were asleep. The boy cat always sleeps with me for some part of the night, but hasn't the past two nights. Our closets have latches that are tough to open, and the doors close pretty tightly and have to be pulled pretty hard to open. This morning, when we woke up, one was open.
It's either me or the house. If it's the house, I've lived in at least 4 haunted houses in my life. My first memorable experience was when I was in my early twenties (before I met Incog), and was home alone. We had a shelf of jars over the dryer and I heard them all just fall off the shelf. I assumed the shelf fell, but when I went in there, the shelf was still very firmly attached to the wall and it looked like someone just swept the jars off with their arm.
So. Me or the houses? What do you think?