Memorial Day is a good day to ask a ghost not to sit on your lap while you’re on the toilet
May 30th, 2006
While you were at that barbecue yesterday, I was squatting awkwardly in a cemetery, muttering about my toilet to a headstone. Good times!
I was supposed to be tracking down sandals for Sophie at Wal-Mart. But Wal-Mart makes me want to huddle in a pile of clearance-rack size-6x Mary-Kate & Ashley sequined peasant skirts and gnaw my wrist veins open and spurt wanly at passing shoppers until store security guards get wind of my suicidal hijinks and drag my gray clammy body out back via the loading dock. I am always looking for a good reason to put off a trip to Wal-Mart.
Since it was Memorial Day, and I knew one of the Mr. Pipe & Mrs. Kitchen clan had served in World War I, I decided to take flowers to the cemetery where all of the former inhabitants of our home are buried. I cut the flowers from our garden-that-is-not-really-a-garden-of-our-own-doing. Plentiful dog poop is the reason forget-me-nots and violets have sprouted out back; purple creeping phlox that the family before us planted on the front lawn continues to make an appearance each year.
The only thing I have achieved personally, gardenwise, is clearing enough space a few weeks back to assure that many happy caravans of gypsy weeds could find a new place to call home. As I type this, they are propagating like bunnies and doing tarot card readings for the other weeds and complaining about my politically incorrect nomenclature for them. But as always, I digress.
We were talking about Norman. It was Norman’s headstone I was talking to. Norman and his family are the folks that we bought the house from, and Norman had all sorts of lung problems. At the closing, he was in his 80s, and hooked up to a portable oxygen tank. We’re pretty sure the bowling ball and the odd hospital-issue breathing apparatus we found several years back in the crawlspace in the upstairs bathroom belonged to Norman. We donated the bowling ball to a local artist who was creating a gigantic installation from found balls. There are many, many good jokes to be made, and I am sorely tempted to go skipping and chuckling through the funny, funny world of found ball art, but there are more serious issues we must cover today.
We threw out the breathing apparatus, as we were unable to interest the found ball artist in a found breathing apparatus project, but it may have been a bad move. Norman died in 2004, and I am getting the impression he’s maybe a little ticked off about our moving his bowling ball and his breathing stuff.
When Tree came to town and I gave her her first in-person tour of the house (her first two readings of the house were remote readings, which still makes my brain spin in two directions like the double window fan I got at Wal-Mart), she stopped cold in the bathroom, held her hand over our toilet, and said, “There’s someone here. Do you feel that? Oh. Wow.”
I did not want to feel that. I did not want to picture a ghost feeling me feeling it, right over our toilet.
But I stuck out my hand anyway, hoping I was not patting any ghostly privates. Nothing that I could discern.
Tree waved her hand over the loo again and shook her cute sweet head. “It’s gone now. But you should know . . .” I scanned her face frantically, the way I do with flight attendants. But Tree was smirking, so I wasn’t too freaked out. A smirking psychic friend is preferable to a wailing or shrieking or Exorcist-vomiting psychic friend. “. . . you really have a full house here.”
The bathroom of your home is not the best place to hear this sort of information, particularly when it is coming to you via a trusted source.
I asked Tree what my options were. I told her I did not like the concept of ghosts playing How Many Of Us Can We Fit In This Bathroom in our bathroom. I told her I did not like the concept of my face buried in Mr. Toilet’s ghostly hovering rump while I take care of business on the potty. I told her I did not like the concept of stripping for a shower while Mr. Toilet throws phantom wooden nickels at my naked Polish-American ass and sneers at the poor quality of the entertainment.
Tree was very helpful. She told me it was perfectly all right to have a room that was off-limits to spirits. I told her I wanted to have two or three or four rooms that were off-limits. “Is that allowed?”
Tree said it was allowed, and that I just needed to tell the ghosts that I needed Jenny Private Time. Jenny’s Privates’ Time. Either way, I needed it bad, and so I told the Toilet Ghost and any other par-TAY 24-7 ghosts in the vicinity that the bathroom and the bedroom were henceforth spirit-free zones.
But SOME SPIRITS WERE NOT LISTENING. I’ve never much liked being in our bathroom, particularly not at night, and I figured after my stern talking-to, I’d immediately feel like I was in Zero-Ghosts Spa Heaven. But no! No no no!
The scalp has been going off! My scalp goes off like a car alarm! No, you can’t hear it. Bad analogy, but they are my trademark, so I must not stop them, ever.
My scalp has been tingling ever since my second reading with Tree (the reading that happened RIGHT AFTER THE UPSTAIRS TOILET OVERFLOWED, AND MAY I REMIND YOU THAT IT OVERFLOWED AFTER SOPH AND I GAVE MRS. KITCHEN AN OFFERING OF A PAINTING AND SOME CHAMPAGNE, WAS MR. TOILET JEALOUS?). It does not tingle all the time, but it weirdly “goes off” at strange times…and it feels like someone is gently moving my hair.
It is very bad to feel like someone is gently moving your hair when you are going wee-wee. And occasionally, that’s what it feels like is happening. Mr. Toilet has not been listening! He is being brazen! I have been very displeased with Mr. Toilet. And I have told him so in the bathroom, and I have wrapped my naked body in blazing white light yadda yadda yadda and STILL the scalp goes off in the bathroom.
I can’t know for sure if Mr. Toilet is Norman, jonesin’ from the grave for a little oxygenated bowling, but considering the crawlspace is right smack where Tree stopped and stuck out her magic hand, well, I figured it was a good place to start.
I think I’ve told you before — there have only been three families in this house, and one of them is us. I have been spending an insane amount of time researching the first family who lived here, the Richmonds. So I’m wondering if Norman (the patriarch of the second family) is cranky about this and feeling left out. But his family is still alive — including his wife — so I’m not sure why he’d waste his Crossing Over moments in our bathroom, sitting on my lap while I heed the call of nature and leaf through Sephora catalogs. Life after death! Such a mystery!
I had found Norman’s grave by accident the last time I was at the cemetery, researching the Richmonds. And after I stopped by the Richmonds’ plot yesterday, I took my remaining forget-me-nots to Norman. And if you hadn’t gone to that barbecue and had instead been hiding behind a nearby tombstone, you would have caught snatches of this monologue:
Hello, Norman, sir. If you’re the one who’s been hanging around our toilet, that’s really going to have to stop, sir. I really don’t appreciate that sort of company. I know I’ve been talking about the Richmonds a lot, and I don’t want you to feel left out or anything, but look, you’ve got family nearby, and I’m sure they could use you around. We love the house, we respect you and your family, and we love the tulips and the phlox. The shed is great too. And everybody who visits talks about the screened-in porch. Tree and I also got a kick out of seeing all the puzzles you left upstairs in the attic.
What I’m saying is, you don’t need to assert yourself, sir. Rest assured, sir, you are remembered. So let’s just move on. I have a hard enough time sleeping as it is, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d respect my need for a little downtime in the bathroom, particularly in the evenings. We’re sorry about the bowling ball and the breathing contraption, but we’d never inherited crawlspace items before, and we did what seemed best at the time. I’m also sorry about throwing out your Red Cross Blood Drive newsletters and the coupons, but we told the postman three times that you didn’t live here anymore, and we had a small child and didn’t have the energy for any extra bureaucracy so, yes, we did throw out some of your mail. Please try to understand, we were doing the best we could, just like everybody else. You did the best you could, we’re doing the best we can, and that’s all anybody can ask of anybody, sir.
So please, stay out of the bathroom, sir, and don’t make the toilet overflow and drip through the kitchen ceiling anymore. Mrs. Kitchen sure doesn’t appreciate it, and we’ve got our hands full around already. I’ll drop by and visit you here at the cemetery from time to time, but a lady needs her space where it counts.
Entry Filed under: Uncategorized, Boo! (Our resident ghosts)
33 Comments
1. Bethany | May 30th, 2006 at 2:05 pm
“I told her I did not like the concept of stripping for a shower while Mr. Toilet throws phantom wooden nickels at my naked Polish-American ass and sneers at the poor quality of the entertainment.”
Showering may never be the same for me again.
Maybe you should just be flattered that all the ghosts find your house the most comfortable. After all, they all have somewhere else to go, but yet they choose you. You must be a delightful hostess!
2. Sheri | May 30th, 2006 at 2:07 pm
Thank you! And good luck with that….
3. karina | May 30th, 2006 at 2:28 pm
Yay! The ghost stories return! I hope that Norman listens to you, though…the last thing you want is a peeved Norman in your bathroom. (Cue the “Psycho” music.)
4. Tree | May 30th, 2006 at 2:41 pm
Oh my God. How do you do that? Make me laugh so hard during a ghost story? One that I already knew?
Thank you!
5. ozma | May 30th, 2006 at 2:50 pm
But SOME SPIRITS WERE NOT LISTENING. I’ve never much liked being in our bathroom, particularly not at night, and I figured after my stern talking-to, I’d immediately feel like I was in Zero-Ghosts Spa Heaven. But no! No no no!
Damn those spirits. They need a time out or something!
6. Coley | May 30th, 2006 at 3:05 pm
Has it worked?!!
7. nolamom | May 30th, 2006 at 3:05 pm
YEAH!!! More ghost stories, thanks Jenn.
I hope Mr. Norman can forgive you and move on, especially move on out of the bathroom. Now my super sensitive superstitiousness is going to get the better of me, especially in the bathroom. LOL.
8. Lisa S. | May 30th, 2006 at 3:12 pm
Wow…that was quite an elaborate little “talking to” that you gave him. I can’t wait to see what happens next.
I am dying to come into your bathroom to see if I can feel anything. or the whole house for that matter. Too bad I’m so far away.
For what it’s worth you WERE nice and you WERE kind and if that counts in the spirit world then i think you are A-OK my friend.
you crack me up!
9. la Ketch | May 30th, 2006 at 3:15 pm
great post! thanks for the ghosts!!
10. Lisa H | May 30th, 2006 at 3:48 pm
See, I knew I wasn’t the only one to talk to the ghosts of houseowners past.
Way to be nice to the ghosts!
11. geogirl | May 30th, 2006 at 4:30 pm
Still LOL at the gypsy weeds giving tarot card readings…
God! how do you come up with stuff like that. I think the itchy patch on your scalp is just the ghost picking your brains for some of that great humor.
12. the Mater | May 30th, 2006 at 4:50 pm
Gosh, Jenn, you’re really delivering the bare naked truth here.
I think you should redirect Norman to Martin Luther. Can ghosts travel back in time and haunt someone else? ML had a problem with constipation so he and Norman could spend some quality time discussing the fate of western religion while dear Martin sits and contemplates, eh?
I had no idea that he’s still hanging around the toilet. He must really like you. Do David or the girls get any weird vibrations? I was there this past month and even in the house alone that one night with the girls and my bathroom time was peaceful. You’re a prisoner in your own bathroom!
Is this spectral harrassment?
I hope he liked the flowers and didn’t mind too much that you also delivered a bouquet to the Richmond family.
13. Contrary | May 30th, 2006 at 4:55 pm
Wow, my ‘feeling Norman’ comment from way back when is coming back to haunt me, no pun intended (except, pun totally intended).
I cannot BELIEVE that Norman is cheating on me.
Hmph.
14. kirsty | May 30th, 2006 at 6:00 pm
I don’t care how dead and spectral you are, staying in the room while someone else is peeing is just rude!
15. ChristyD | May 30th, 2006 at 8:04 pm
You’re crackin’ me up! Thanks for the laughs.
16. Margaret | May 30th, 2006 at 8:19 pm
At my house all I’d have to do is disrobe for the shower and any ghosts would run in terror. A haunting in reverse!
17. jbeeky | May 30th, 2006 at 10:48 pm
If he won’t leave would it rekill him to pick up some Ajax? Jeez…….
18. Simon | May 30th, 2006 at 11:15 pm
You know, if Wal-Mart were offering a Star Wars Princess Leia Gold Bikini Free Participation Pr0n Marathon, I still would prefer not to go. That is how much I also dislike Wal-Mart.
Good ghost story, too, by the way.
19. Piink Rocket | May 31st, 2006 at 1:10 am
i’m still laughing! then i get to the comments and read “spectral harrassment” from your mother and i’m in tears!
seriously, this whole ghost thing should be your next play! i’d pay a lot to see it!
20. Barb | May 31st, 2006 at 7:00 am
Send him over to Neals bathroom, one visit and he will leave the neighborhood!
( Did I really write that???)
21. Kris | May 31st, 2006 at 7:54 am
Google still amazes… I mean type in “found ball art” and you can pin the obvious recipient of the spare ball. I expected bowling ball sculptures. It seems instead that the artist is about arranging the groupings…..
Thanks for this next installment. I look forward to more on this subplot
I mean “Breeding” has only so many facets to explore… and “Weeping”? Well Let’s Just Say that you have left me in weepy stitches on numerous posts.
22. kt flynnie | May 31st, 2006 at 8:44 am
i feel like you totally got peer pressured into writting about this topic …either way keep on going with the whimsical ghost stories…*giggles* you wrote ball art…
23. Deb | May 31st, 2006 at 11:28 am
Wow, you are too hilarious for words….this is the BEST…..still laughing, hard to type ROFLMAO
Ok….I hate walmart too, with the white hot heat of a thousand suns. It gives me anxiety attacks. I get overwhelmed. Ugh…
found ball art……those are my favorite kind of people…!!
It would be so much easier if Norman could just tell Tree what he needs so you could pee in peace..sheesh…
Does Sage work on ghosts? maybe you could sage your bathroom and he couldn’t come in. Let’s ask Tree…
24. Andrea S. | May 31st, 2006 at 11:29 am
Yay, ghosties! I love me a good ghost story. I’m so glad you brought them back!
I think I’d be a bit creeped out as well with the toilet haunting. Do you have another bathroom you could use, just until you’re sure Mr. Toilet has gotten your message? Reminds me of that line the cop uses in the movie Ghost. “Hell, I’m never gonna get undressed again!”
Inspired by you, I have written a post on my blog about my one instance of paranormal experience. Here it is if you’re interested.
25. sogalitno | May 31st, 2006 at 12:18 pm
while you were hanging at the graveyard with your “friend” here is what i was doing…
http://www.sogalitno.typepad.com/southern_gal_gardens/
off to the nursery to spend a small fortune on foundation planting and compost/top soil.
say hey to the ghosts for me
26. the Mater | May 31st, 2006 at 1:28 pm
Yes, Jenn may have been “peer pressured” … but it worked :>)
My latest inspired thought about Norman and the toilet … maybe he was the kind of fellow who wanted his own private space, away from the busy family, and settled on the bathroom and the john! This could have been Norman’s favorite hangout. No wonder the poor guy is reluctant to give up his throne to Queen Jennifer and her little princesses!
And he even stored his bowling ball and breathing apparatus right next to the toilet in the crawlspace. Yes, this man LOVED his bathroom space.
27. Katieface | May 31st, 2006 at 1:40 pm
Would you like me to try to find a cheap flight out there to encourage Norman to leave? My 8 1/2 month pregnant body would be sure to freak him out enough to leave the bathroom…possibly the country. Let me know. Actually, you might want to wait until I’ve had the baby. I think he might be more startled by my postpartum belly.
28. Brenda | May 31st, 2006 at 1:49 pm
First of all, I LOVE reading your stories/life experiences.
I have not been reading your blog for very long, but
have really gotten hooked on your ghost stores.
Being a new fan, when you said you were having
sessions/talks with “tree”. I thought you actually had a psychic
tree in your yard. This has really made for some interesting visuals……………………so sorry to hear that your tree isn’t psychic,
but an actual person. No disrespect.
But then again……………….have you talked to your tree?
Your house and yard would probably be the place a psychic tree would live.
29. Tiff | May 31st, 2006 at 2:44 pm
Oh Jenn I just love your writing! Ghosts or no ghosts you are a delight! Keep em comin’!
30. Bloo n' D'ah Phace | May 31st, 2006 at 3:13 pm
Oh, Jenn. You are divinely inspired, obviously…even on the pot. Even the dead want to be around you all the time. I know how they feel. - S
31. Elizabeth | June 1st, 2006 at 9:22 am
Well I think you were exceedingly polite and used your most excellent manners when speaking to Norman, so I don’t see how he could possibly refuse you.
Although, he is a MAN, and therefore required even in his afterlife to spend countless hours lingering in a bathroom. If your house has another bathroom somewhere, perhaps you could suggest he move there?
When I read your ghost stories I don’t know whether to get the chills from the spookiness or fall down laughing from the funny way you tell them
32. Lanne | June 6th, 2006 at 6:35 am
Ahhh i am convinced we def had a spirit or similar at one house.. it was a hideous experience.. i hope yours are friendlier… Hi Norman…!
33. Fred marlin | June 12th, 2006 at 12:36 pm
Wow. a bathroom ghost. Be ok as long as she is pretty.
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