It’s fine. Everything is fine …
GirlWonder and her HandsomeHusband have purchased their first home. Regular readers are probably tired of hearing about it, but this is my life now. I haven’t seen my best friends in months. I beg off plans with “Can’t. I’m scheduled to work on the kids’ renovation — working open and close.”
Obviously, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Still, I find myself doing as much DIY counseling as anything. Mr. Wonderful and I routinely field calls and texts from our daughter wondering what in the world their house is up to now?
There’s something undeniably eerie about an old house. It creaks, groans and sighs in a way that makes you wonder if it’s alive. When you’re living in one, these noises don’t just suggest the house is aging; they ignite a series of internal debates in your mind: “Is it a ghost? Or a pipe preparing to burst?
Settled
At first, you’ll tell yourself it’s the house settling. That’s what the well-spoken real estate agent told you when you bought the place, right? “Oh, it’s normal.” After the fourth time your kitchen floor makes a noise like someone is sneaking up behind you, you start questioning that very comforting thought. Why settle after all?
Ghosts? Well, ghosts have a certain flair. They haunt with panache. A slight chill in the air, a faint whisper, a flickering light bulb — these are signs of a truly excellent spirit, one who knows how to make an entrance. Ghosts have a reputation to uphold, after all.
When a ghost is involved, there’s a drama to the whole thing. Sure, it might be a little unsettling, but at least you can tell your friends about it in a way that earns you mysterious street cred. “Oh, I heard a ghost whisper my name last night … No, seriously, it was like ‘Kymmmberly!” How can anyone not be intrigued by that?
Maintenance issues are not nearly as exciting. They don’t make movies about leaky roofs or stubborn faucets. You can’t tell a chilling story about a busted pipe around a campfire. It’s not the kind of thing you tell your friends in a breathy voice over cocktails. “Oh my gosh, the water pressure in the bathroom sink went out last night… I don’t know, it just felt wrong, like it was haunted, but… more like a leak instead of, you know, a presence.”
Let’s be honest. If you maintain an old house, you really hope for a ghost. Ghosts are just bad roommates. They might move some things around, make the occasional creepy noise, or, if they’re feeling fancy, knock over a glass of water. But they’re mostly chill. They won’t demand a new roof or suddenly need the care of a trained expert. Sure, they might lock you in a closet once or twice.
That’s the true existential terror of hearing strange noises in an old house: It’s not the fear of meeting the ghost of someone who died in the 1800s. It’s the sudden realization that the house is in such a state of disrepair that it’s literally falling apart. A ghost might be a nuisance, but a broken heating system in the dead of winter? That’s a genuine threat to your well being. No one has ever been killed by a ghostly cold draft, but old HVAC? That might just give you a chill and an uncomfortable repair bill.
Creak
Sometimes, the house will get too creative with its noise-making. You hear something like a door creaking in the distance, but then the noise becomes rhythmic, like a tapping sound. Is someone trying to get your attention? “Is it a spirit? Or is it the air conditioner just giving up on life?” More frightening, you can almost feel the house looking at you like, “Well? What are you going to do about it?”
At this point, you’re hoping, praying even, that it’s not the plumbing. If it’s the plumbing, you’re going to have to call someone, and when you call, they’ll probably tell you that the pipes are, in fact, older than your great-grandmother. In a blink, you are coughing up a mortgage payment for a bathroom repair. Ghosts, at least, usually don’t require a second mortgage to deal with.
As you lie in bed, listening to the house’s soundtrack of creaks, groans and the occasional ominous thump, you start to feel a little less scared and a little more philosophical. Is it a ghost? Maybe. Or is it simply the house whispering to you in its own cryptic language? “I’m being needy again… help … me…” Take comfort in the fact that rather than a vengeful spirit, it’s probably just the attic insulation slowly disintegrating.
Either way, you’ve got to be honest with yourself: You’d rather have a ghost than a repair.
