The Minnesota Farm Woman

Now about those ghosts. I’m sure they’re here and I’m not half so alarmed at meeting up with any of them as I am at having to meet the live nuts I have to see every day. ~Bess Truman

There must be ghosts around this house. I’m not talking about Barney the Chihuahua’s midnight barking at noises only he can hear or hiding his bones under my pillow so they will be safe from bone stealers. I’m talking about the things that get moved around and perhaps even disappear off the face of the earth. Whenever I put socks in the washer and dryer, I almost always end up with an odd sock, only to have it turn up the next laundry day. Explain that, would you please? Two weeks ago, I bought a small jar of pumpkin pie spice at the grocery store. That stuff isn’t cheap, either. I remember unpacking it, but it was nowhere to be found an hour later. I looked high and low for several days and finally gave up and bought another jar. Guess what? Now there are TWO jars of pumpkin pie spice in my cupboard. I could start baking, but there’s not enough sugar even though I SWEAR I had a bag. At least I think I did. These ghosts are making me doubt my sanity. The pumpkin pie spice is probably with the missing mayonnaise. Both of us looked through the pantry more than once because we were certain that there was a jar of mayonnaise in there somewhere. I always keep an extra jar of mayonnaise, but for some reason, it was nowhere to be found. There is now a new key holder near the back door because my car keys were mysteriously being moved. They were never where I left them. Never. Ever. HE wasn’t much help. When I asked him if he had seen my keys he always said, “They’re probably right where you left them.” Thanks, Honey. Thanks a bunch. The ghosts are moving my phone, too. Sometimes I have to dial my own phone number just to be able to find it. That, too, is never where I remember leaving it last. If there were any doubts at all that there are spirits around here I have the absolute proof, and it is something that is happening more and more frequently the older I get. With apologies to the person who said it first and I wish I would have thought of it: Sometimes, when I open my mouth, my mother comes out. At sixteen, I would have been horrified. At thirty, I would have cringed. The spookiest, strangest part of all is that now I don’t mind it one bit. In fact, every time it happens it makes me smile. I’m turning into my mother, and I don’t even need a costume.