About two weeks ago my phone rings. It’s my previous landlord, Randy.
Randy: Hey Danielle, it’s Randy, got a question for you.
Randy: Did anything weird ever happen to you while living on Charlotte St.
Me: Describe weird because weird shit happens to me all the time.
Randy: Well you know the couple that moved in after you.
Randy: They moved out 3 days later. They insist it’s haunted and the girl won’t step foot near the place. They called me at midnight because they swore someone was in the attic!
Me: GET OUT!
Randy: No kidding.
The conversation continued with Randy stating how when he arrived the girl’s mother was there along with the Manheim police, guns drawn mind you, because dude had a riffle in the attic and that is where they were insistent someone was hiding.
Personally, I think dude needs to grow a set. I lived there for 3 years and not once did I feel anything but protected and safe in my house, with or without Jason there.
It’s been a month since I vacated the gnome home and there it sits unoccupied. At least I don’t have to worry about bothering anyone when I return to dig out my perennials and garden fence this weekend!