I am Toronto Proud.
I love my neighbourhood. I live in arguably one of the best, and now most sought after areas of our fine city. I am very active and involved in my community, and have spent years making good friends, neighbours, and acquaintances with the shop owners.
I love my house. It’s warm, solid, kind of adorable, and it takes care of my family through the seasons. I had planned to grow
eccentric old in my Junction cutie. That was the plan, until, last week, when something happened that has changed EVERYTHING.
It all started with my dog. She started acting weird. Aggressive, scared, angry, stressed. She would start barking and growling at the two heating grates in the kitchen and bathroom. She would run crazily sniffing along baseboards, at one point she jumped on the couch and started biting my hands. She would freak out and bark at what appeared to be nothing. WHAT IS IT GIRL, WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME?
Then, it hit me. My mouth dried, my heart started pounding, I got the lady sweats. I felt light-headed and sick. I knew what was making her act like this, there could only be one reason…
IT MUST BE A GHOST.
My home, that I LOVE, is haunted. I was devastated. I have always said I’d never move, unless, of course, one of my two deal breakers happened.
#1 – House is Haunted. (I know some people can live with this, I cannot. I am a total chickenshit of the supernatural. When the earthquake happened a few years ago, my closet doors started banging open and shut. I assumed it was a haunting, walked outside, and put up a for sale sign. CANNOT HANDLE GHOSTS)
#2 – Rats. (Sure, this is probably a deal breaker for everyone, right? But, I wasn’t concerned right now about rats, I had bigger problems, I HAVE A GHOST IN MY HOUSE.)
I sat on my bed, and I cried. Hard. For a long, long time. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. I sobbed and sobbed, and felt defeated. I know other people have it tougher out there, but I haven’t exactly had it easy. In a two day period I have lost my job, developed a kidney stone, and now, have a ghost in my house. And, I feel alone.
So alone. (Epic. Pity. Party. It was great, who doesn’t love a good cry, right?)
I needed to come up with a plan, and it would all be on me. It always is. It always has been. Throughout the years, as my many problems arise, I am left alone to face it, and deal. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is great at doing many things, like wearing fancy glasses, or buying wine, but he’s not so great with the house stuff, and really not great at the “Tara” stuff. He tries his best, but I am a handful. For every coo-coo thing that comes out of my mouth, there are 200 that stayed in. He’s loving and supportive, but I think at the end of the day, the best he can do is buckle up, as life with me is a bumpy ride.
Given my (lack of) job situation, I knew he would not agree to having a Medium come in, they cost a small fortune. I was going to have to do this one, all on my own. I am a huge fan of Crossing Over’s John Edward, so I do know a few things. I also Googled “How to get rid of ghosts.” A few options popped up, a how to in 9 steps, and a how to in 7 steps. As per my m/o, I took the easy way out and went with the 7 steps.
I went into my kitchen, and decided to have a few words with the Ghost. I spoke out loud, in clear voice, and let my Ghost know that I just can’t handle it being in my house right now. I explained about the no job thing, the poor health, and that I am just plain straight up terrified. I also said I know sometimes Ghosts need help getting to the light, but that right now I am not the person to do that. I’m not in a great place right now, I can barely help myself, so I will be of no use to them, and they need to find another guide. In a different house. Maybe on a different street. Please GET GONE.
I hoped this would do the trick.
I pulled myself together, picked my kids up from school, and took them out for dinner, for my favourite comfort food, Vesuvios. (Come on, you can’t expect me to cook in my haunted kitchen, right? Plus, I figured it would be good to leave Casper alone to gather his outer worldly possessions and scram.)
That night, when my husband got home from work, he said he had to tell me something the neighbours told him, about their house, and it was going to FREAK ME OUT. We were whispering so our kids wouldn’t hear us.
“They saw something in their kitchen” he says. “They’ve called someone in to deal with it” he says.
Way ahead of you, I think, about to spring my news on him.
“I bet I KNOW what it IS” I whisper.
At the very same time I say “THEY HAVE GHOSTS” he says “THEY HAVE RATS”.
To be continued…