So far I have posted every day in November and have had no difficulty finding inspiration. Truth be told, I have whole pages of ideas for blog posts, and new ones float in and out of my head all day every day! Some I remember and some I forget; some I scrawl down notes for and come back to later only to have lost interest or have forgotten exactly what angle I had in mind.
Tonight, though, I am exhausted. Falling asleep at the computer exhausted. And I have to write something before I can sleep, so I’m going to cheat just a little and use the helpful prompt provided by BlogHer for this day: Would you buy your dream house if the price was right BUT you also were told it was inhabited by ghosts?
Short answer: Yes. Because I don’t believe in ghosts.
The house we live in now is only five years old. There’s not much of a chance that there would be ghosts here in any case. If the ruins of our last home still stood, I imagine they would be haunted in a sort of metaphorical way by the ashes of our belongings and the memories of our interrupted life there, but not by white-sheeted phantoms.
The house we lived in before that ought to have been haunted. It was built in 1889, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had died there in all those years since. It had an old-fashioned attic and a dungeon-like basement that were perfect for ghosts. But I never felt frightened there or sensed any sort of supernatural presence.
I have kind of a thing about knowing the history of the places where I live. I knew who built our Victorian home and who owned the land before it was built. I knew the names of everyone who ever lived there. I made a map of several blocks of the street and wrote the dates that each house was built, and I knew about many that were long gone. I also take an interest in the history of Knoxville. I will write more about this in another time, but to someone who is aware of history, the ghosts of the past are everywhere, and those are the only kinds of ghosts I believe in.