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A Modern Ghost Story
May. 28th, 2020 10:04 amThis is exactly the sort of house you'd hope would be haunted. Five hundred years of births and deaths and who knows what else ought to imprint themselves somehow, nevermind that my coming here was the perfect setup for a gothic horror story. Yet, if there are any ghosts, I can only describe them as helpful.
I moved from a house occupied by four people, with a legacy of communal household supplies accrued over the years. Pretty much anything you would need, could be found somewhere. I have moved into a house which, though amply furnished, has not been lived in for two years, and some things have been used or taken away in that time. I explored the cupboards when I first moved in, and reorganised some things, so I thought I had a pretty good grasp of what was on hand and what wasn't. And yet, several times over the past month, I have realised I have a need of something, and within the next day or two it will turn up. Cleaning supplies, cooking tools, even some garden essentials have appeared just when I needed them.
One thing I couldn't find was dishwasher tablets. I am only one person and it takes me a while to fill the dishwasher, so mostly I just hadn't used it, but eventually I realised it was a good way to clean a lot of dusty dishes at once and could be depended upon to get them sterile, so I decided to give it a go. But there was no soap for it. I waited for some to turn up: none. I looked in the utility closet, the bathroom,* and the little cranny behind the microwave where unsightly bottles and bags are kept for convenient access, and no dice, though the closet did have half a bag of dishwasher salt which I clocked for future reference. I checked the local shop** – plenty of laundry soap, no dishwasher soap. So I finally picked up a bag of tablets when I did my second big shop at the Co-Op, ran the dishwasher, Bob's your uncle.
Yesterday the dishwasher was full enough to run a second time. I reached into the cranny and pulled out a bag of dishwasher tablets ... but it wasn't the bag I had bought. The water-soluble film around the tablets was soft and slightly sticky, implying the bag had sat there, unsealed, for some time. And yet it definitely was not there when I checked the cranny thoroughly on my first search. Rather than feeling spooky, it felt like The House had realised it had been asleep at the wheel there and scrambled to make up for it.
So, my 1-month report is: I am very happy to be here, and I think the house is happy to have me here too.
UPDATE: Today's present was a left-hand leather garden glove. Is this an apology for the wounds received to my left hand from the thorny willow?
*The bathroom had been the hiding place for a number of cleaning fluids, and I had found some useful kitchen things in there, so it wasn't as illogical a place to look as you might think.
**For local people.
I moved from a house occupied by four people, with a legacy of communal household supplies accrued over the years. Pretty much anything you would need, could be found somewhere. I have moved into a house which, though amply furnished, has not been lived in for two years, and some things have been used or taken away in that time. I explored the cupboards when I first moved in, and reorganised some things, so I thought I had a pretty good grasp of what was on hand and what wasn't. And yet, several times over the past month, I have realised I have a need of something, and within the next day or two it will turn up. Cleaning supplies, cooking tools, even some garden essentials have appeared just when I needed them.
One thing I couldn't find was dishwasher tablets. I am only one person and it takes me a while to fill the dishwasher, so mostly I just hadn't used it, but eventually I realised it was a good way to clean a lot of dusty dishes at once and could be depended upon to get them sterile, so I decided to give it a go. But there was no soap for it. I waited for some to turn up: none. I looked in the utility closet, the bathroom,* and the little cranny behind the microwave where unsightly bottles and bags are kept for convenient access, and no dice, though the closet did have half a bag of dishwasher salt which I clocked for future reference. I checked the local shop** – plenty of laundry soap, no dishwasher soap. So I finally picked up a bag of tablets when I did my second big shop at the Co-Op, ran the dishwasher, Bob's your uncle.
Yesterday the dishwasher was full enough to run a second time. I reached into the cranny and pulled out a bag of dishwasher tablets ... but it wasn't the bag I had bought. The water-soluble film around the tablets was soft and slightly sticky, implying the bag had sat there, unsealed, for some time. And yet it definitely was not there when I checked the cranny thoroughly on my first search. Rather than feeling spooky, it felt like The House had realised it had been asleep at the wheel there and scrambled to make up for it.
So, my 1-month report is: I am very happy to be here, and I think the house is happy to have me here too.
UPDATE: Today's present was a left-hand leather garden glove. Is this an apology for the wounds received to my left hand from the thorny willow?
*The bathroom had been the hiding place for a number of cleaning fluids, and I had found some useful kitchen things in there, so it wasn't as illogical a place to look as you might think.
**For local people.
