One of my guilty pleasures is watching ghost hunting shows. I DVR episodes of Ghost Adventures (and previously Ghost Hunters – may the show R.I.P.) and snuggle with our dog on the bed while I listen to the EVPs and slamming doors. I’ve even gotten to the point where I can hear the spirit voices before they replay them with the subtitles. I think I like watching these shows because I’m pretty sure I used to live in a house where I had some spiritual co-inhabitants. It was a house built in 1928 on the farmland of one of the city founders. I never felt anything evil or menacing, just a occasional presence over my shoulder, watching what I was doing. There was also the times where lights I know I turned off were back on. Not just once or twice, but more like a weekly occurrence. I really noticed the difference when I moved and the feeling of being watched was gone. It was the strangest thing and it’s impossible to describe if you’ve never experienced it.
Alas, Sharon doesn’t share my enthusiasm in ghosts and the paranormal, but over the years, I’ve managed to get her to go to a number of haunted locations. Some of them because they had another appeal to her tastes and other times we were led there as part of a tour package. I didn’t care, we were going ghost hunting!