Late Saturday night, I was up watching Ghost Hunters and drinking a cup of tea. I didn’t really taste the tea, as I was too busy getting goosebumps from watching that show (in the dark, naturally). I was so into it that at first the sound didn’t register.
The second time it happened – the subtle whirrrrrr-click! – of one of the kitchen drawers opening, my goosebumps suddenly went into overdrive. I believe I may have even had them on my forehead. True story.
I thought, oh, maybe I didn’t close it. I WAS rummaging around for a pen earlier. So I went into the (darkened) kitchen.
And promptly slammed my shin right into an open drawer. I may or may not have said several colorful expressions loudly.
I forgot my fear in a haze of pain and anger (at the drawer) and closed it. I checked the refrigerator to make sure it was closed (as when it isn’t closed the fan tends to make a similar whirrrr-click!) and went back to the show.
Ten minutes later, right when the Ghost Hunters were playing the ‘evidence’…. whirrrrr-click!
Then again, right after it… whirrrr-click!
Damn fridge, I thought. I stomped back into the kitchen, slightly more carefully than before, and turned on the light.
Four drawers, including the one I’d just closed, were open. Hair I didn’t know existed suddenly stood up in alarm. Then, from the living room, a resounding crash of my coffee cup falling onto the floor.
Oh god, was my instantaneous thought, poltergeist!
I held perfectly still, my instinctual motion when I am surprised by something and am trying to remember if I even have any holy water anymore (lapsed Catholic, you know…). If I make a make-shift cross out of a pair of breadsticks, will this make the evil thing go away?
Then, a sudden snort of air right at the back of my knees.
The oven, previously unfamiliar with my back-side, suddenly became much more acquainted with that part of me. A small part of my brain was congratulating myself on my ninja-like moves even as the rest of it panicked and I stared around in fright…
To Bean, standing by the kitchen doorway, with the approximate look of “What the hell?” on her face.
“Bean, I think we have a problem,” I whispered from the uncomfortable coziness under the range hood.
Bean went over to a drawer while I was preoccupied trying to find the silver in the drawer that was conveniently placed to my right. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move.
She somehow hooked one of her canines behind the drawer-front, and with a flick of her head, opened the drawer. And proceeded to rummage through it. Finding nothing, she apparently decided that sweetened tea was more her style and went back into the living room, where I could see her lapping at the tea she had obviously spilled.
Yes, there were many confusing emotions in that moment, “what the hell” being the most prominent. But there is one indisputable truth.
That ghost problem I thought I had… well, my dog is apparently half-poltergeist.