Also, UberGirls are staying with Dilf's mom for the next couple of days. That means I'm home alone. "Ahhhh," I think to myself. "I can sleep in!"
Not if my haunted television has anything to say about it.
I awoke at 6:18 a.m. to the sound of voices coming from the downstairs family room. Soothing, fatherly Mr. Rogers noises. The TV was mysteriously up and running. I thought perhaps that danger kitten Miss Muffin had stepped on the remote or rolled over on it or tried to kill it, as is her habit. I reluctantly get out of bed to turn off the TV
Only the TV is off when I peer down through the banister. Thinking perhaps I was dreaming, I head back to bed. I get halfway down the hallway when i again hear Mr. Rogers, singing this time.
I hastily return to my spot on the stairs to peek into the family room, and sure enough, the TV is on again! And Miss Muffin is weaving through my legs; she was not the responsible party!
I head downstairs, thinking of all those haunted house shows I've been watching on the Discovery Channel lately. Specifically, I'm thinking of the times I scoffed, "That's so fake!"
I begin repeating over and over, Cowardly Lion-style, "I do believe in spooks. I DO BELIEVE IN SPOOKS!" I unplug the TV. Apparently, ghosts run on electricity in my house.
A couple hours later, Dilf calls me from his idoctrination. I tell him what happened. He says, "Oh, yeah. The remote's been shorting out ever since UberGirls poured juice on it. Just take the batteries out."
Mystery solved. Ah, well. Back to cleaning and organizing.
