Letters To the Ghost In My House

Dear Ghost,

Listen, by this point, I’ve more or less reconciled myself to your presence. I mean, it’s fine, I guess. We just have to share a space, and I can accept that. However, I have to admit, I worry…how closely do you observe normal mortal notions of privacy? I mean, do you watch me…all the time? Or do you, like, stay out of the bathroom and so forth? Or is it that none of that really matters, because as a ghost, you don’t have the same views of human bodily processes that we do? I mean, maybe you just don’t care. But I worry about it. Since becoming aware of your presence, I’ve probably paid a little closer attention to my behavior than I used to, but I don’t know how long you were here before that, and anyway…well, look, I need some privacy in my own home, okay? I just do. So, even if it doesn’t matter to you, I’d appreciate it if you could just make a habit of confining your hovering to the spare room for the couple hours before I go to bed and after I get up. Does that sound reasonable?

Thanks,
Lisa

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Dear Ghost,

Just wanted to give you a heads-up that my boyfriend, Eric, is coming in this weekend. You haven’t seen him yet, because he lives in Seattle, and we don’t get to see each other very often. That’s why I’ve been cleaning. You know how sometimes you moan words, ghost? Could you just try not to mention anything that might embarrass me? For example, you know how last night, I got hungry, but there wasn’t really any food in the house, and I made those three mustard-and-white-bread sandwiches, and didn’t want to wash a plate, and lay in bed reading Cosmo with the sandwiches resting on my stomach? And then I spilled some mustard on the sheet, and I licked it off? And then I ate some more mustard out the jar with my finger? And then I made a mustard smiley-face on my stomach and danced in front of the mirror, and made up that “I’m Mr. Mustard Man! Yeah, Mr. Mustard Man! Yeah, Mr. Macho, Meanie, Merry, Macabre, Master Mustard Man! I’ve got a mustard way, of going ’bout my day! So all y’all muster up some muscle, do what Mr. Mustard say!” song?

Yeah, those are the kind of things I would never do in front of Eric, and I’d be embarrassed if he knew about them. Although, writing this now, it’s weird that I’m more comfortable in front of my ghost than in front of my boyfriend. I guess it’s just because Eric lives so far away. But now that I think about it, I’ve never been that comfortable with a guy. Is that normal? Or does that mean I’m uncomfortable with intimacy? Do other women you’ve haunted act like that in front of their boyfriends? Or, oh wow, do they act like that at all? How weird am I, compared to other people? Do other people, for example, ever go three days without a shower, just because they pass the sniff test? Maybe I’m unusually disgusting!! Freaking out here, ghost…

Let me know,
Lisa

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Dear Ghost,

So, I guess things got a little awkward this weekend. I’m sorry for the weirdness on Saturday – you rarely seem to be around on Saturday afternoons, and Eric and I really weren’t expecting you to float through. Judging from how you slammed the door, I’m guessing you were surprised as well! Well, these things happen. And, without getting into it, let me just say that what you floated in on would have been much less disturbing if you knew the context. Anyhoo, maybe we should come up with some sort of hang-a-tie-on-the-door system or something.

Although, it’s really a moot point now, because I’m unlikely to see Eric again before the holidays. Honestly, ghost, I don’t know that this long-distance relationship thing is going to work out. It’s just too hard. I miss Eric, and I feel like I have no life in between his visits. There’s this guy at work, Jake, who’s really flirty, and honestly, if he asked me out, I really think I’d go! I’m not at all convinced Eric is faithful, if you want to know. …Hey! Could you, like, zap yourself to Seattle and spy on Eric for me?! Is that stupid? I don’t know that much about the powers of ghosts. If that was really insulting, please don’t be offended. I certainly don’t think of you as my errand-ghost. Actually, I think of you as my friend. I really do.

Hugs,
Lisa

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Dear Ghost,

Just because I leave my diary out does not mean it is okay for you to read it. Let’s try to respect each others’ boundaries please. Relatedly, Eric called. Listen, I should never have suggested that you haunt him. I’d forgotten that you are, after all, a ghost. I appreciate your loyalty and your regard for me, but I sure didn’t mean for you to slap Eric awake in the middle of the night and scare him half to death.

…Okay, I didn’t want to ask, but I just have to know. Was he with anyone? Tell me the truth, ghost.

-Lisa

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Dear Ghost,

You were so right about Eric! You were right all along, I should have listened to you! You’re the best friend I ever had, ghost! Promise me you’ll never leave?

Love,
Lisa

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Dear Ghost,

Um, listen, I don’t know what that was last night. I guess maybe you don’t like Jake, but it is absolutely not cool for you set my guests’ hair on fire, push them down stairs, or otherwise run them out of the house. Also, I don’t know where you put Jake’s clothes, but you need to return them. That’s just immature. I hate to ask this, but…are you maybe jealous, or something?

Concernedly,
Lisa

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Dear Ghost,

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I’ve decided it’s best if I just move out. Things have gotten way too intense in the apartment, and I admit it’s partly my fault, because I allowed our relationship to get too personal. I was looking for someone to lean on after Eric and I broke up, and, well, I guess maybe I used you. And I’m sorry for that. Don’t worry – I will find a new tenant, and switch over all the bills and everything. And I’ll explain to them about you, and try to find someone that you will live well with. And maybe in a month or two, after we’ve had some breathing space, you can haunt me in the library stacks or in an abandoned building or something. But living together is just out of the question. I will always think of you as a friend, though, and I wish you the best.

Fondly,
Lisa