“I recently purchased my first home, and I love it. It was built in 1927 and has all of the original wood floors, etc. throughout the house.
As I felt it more important to get the kids’ rooms organized, I didn’t sleep upstairs in my dormer bedroom until a month after we moved in. I went upstairs several times to put things away and started to wonder how I got so absent-minded that I kept leaving the built-in dresser drawers open. No matter how careful I was to close the drawers each time, one of the drawers was always open when I went back upstairs.
I sleep like the dead. I mean really sleep like the dead. I never wake up once I’m asleep. However, the first night I spent in my room, I woke up to footsteps. I grumped out a ‘what?’ figuring it was one of the kids. I waited for them to either to tell me what they wanted or go back to their room. Nothing happened. Then, as my sleep fogged mind cleared, I realized the kids would not be wearing hard-soled shoes. The steps I heard couldn’t have been made by them. I was a little freaked out but figured that I didn’t feel anything malignant so whatever it was obviously didn’t mean me any harm. I eventually went back to sleep.
I haven’t heard the footsteps since, but things still happen. The closet at the top of the stairs that I always, always close (because I don’t want the cats in there) is frequently open. It has a regular door knob, so it’s not an air current, and the kids don’t go upstairs. The cats are insanely interested in both of my closets, and the upstairs is generally 3-4 degrees cooler than the rest of the house (heat rises, right? Not at my house).
Whatever it is, it lives upstairs. The kids haven’t come into contact with anything strange, their closets don’t open themselves, and the cats don’t frantically attempt to get in their closets. I intend to live and let live. At least it’s just opening doors.”
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