The ghost is back

I'm getting close to asking to borrow someone's Ouija Board. I'm to the point now where I feel as if I need to attempt to communicate with our ghosty friends rather than just witness their presence from time to time. (Wondering what I'm talking about? Read up on my previous supernatural and disturbing encounters.)

So what's the latest? It's the darn attic access panel. It moved, again. And again, David didn't move it (and you bet your bottom dollar I didn't touch the darn thing either).

It was one day last week when it was extraordinarily cold outside when I happened to notice that our bedroom felt icy cold. Granted, wind seeps into every corner of our outdated home (those windows and door frames are real money-munchers), but our bedroom usually stays somewhere in the decent temperature range. Out of curiosity, I approached our closet, pulled the light string and looked up.

I saw what I was really hoping not to: our access panel had been misplaced again. By that, I mean that it was resting up on its edges again (several inches from its boxed-in ledge)—a feat impossible of wind, mischievous wishes or super-powered critters. No, not even the flying squirrel that made its way to our mantel earlier this month could have finagled the panel yet again.

I walked into the living room and said to David, "Please make me feel better and tell me that you moved the attic panel." I expected his response: "Nope."

Shoot!

I couldn't have the darn thing open a moment longer. Not only was it freezing with the chilly attic air wafting down into our bedroom, but I do not enjoy the thought of that panel being open. I have no idea what could possibly pass through it, but I do not want to find out.

Since that day, I've certainly had an overactive imagination. I've seen a few shadows that I can't explain (but someone else probably could). But then there's yesterday...

I was sitting with Noah in the living room and all of the sudden his new remote-controlled jeep zoomed backward about three inches and rocked in place. The motion startled my cat and me, as both of us were just a few feet away. As I was about to praise Noah for learning how to work the complicated remote, I turned toward him and saw that he didn't have the controller in his hands. I quickly glanced around the room and ultimately saw the remote sitting on the end table next to my chair, controller buttons not touching anything (and no one touching them).

I'm fairly certain I sighed then, feeling a bit dismayed that I have yet another unexplained "incident."

I will say this about our seemingly supernatural presence: it doesn't appear to be mean or harmful. If anything, I think it seems to like toys and making mayhem, in a fun sort of way. At least, that's the theory I'm sticking to!

Oh, the panel? It's in place again... for now.