Tribute to the Ghost in the House

Whoever's been to Shaver knows that the ghost in that house is evil. Evil and a perv. Any naked opportunity that ghost had a chance to crash in on he was there... in the closet...behind the foggy shower glass...in the dark room with the porn...
He had poor Giz, who was scared of nothing and nobody, petrified to go downstairs. Every game of hide n go seek fell apart because you actually wanted to be found...quickly.
The whole basement was his- from the storage room that I never saw the back of because I refused to take more than 6 steps in and where the celery disappeared and reappeared two weeks later seemingly unblemished, to the computer room where he clawed on the walls, to the bathroom with the mini boiler room disguised as a linen closet that he was particularly fond of and the little room to the back that never did become a sauna and was the scariest place I ever slept in when bycr came to steal my sanctuary.
Then there was Mike's room. Mike who, overcome with the evil surrounding him, drew upside down crosses all over and required a second baptism for the salvation of his soul.
The huge Yoga room, probably the only place relatively safe (except the closet, of course) and only because the vastness of space left little room for the ghost to hang unexposed and finally,
The Dark Room-need I say more.
The ghost was not confined to the basement, he retreated there whenever the house got too loud.
If ever home alone, he would creep up the stairs and peep over the wall...
One time he actually set off the metronome on the piano and when I went to stop it, I found it silent with the cover on. He is the original terrorist of my memory and I do believe his unsuccessful aim for us Shaver dwellers was very big and terribly malignant. I mean he almost got Mike (goat cheese...should we forward that to the arsee-empees?)
I rehash all this as a prelude to the point that there is a ghost in my house in BIM. He's pretty much a front of the house, hang on the stairs kinda guy. And so far, he's been pretty shy. The other night when I was taking IZ up to bed, he was sitting on the bottom step. He got up so fast, ran up those stairs and took a nose dive out of the top window. If you fall asleep on the couch, he'll watch you from behind the storm shutters and every night he'll wake you with the stomp stomp stomping of him walking upstairs to jiggle the middle room door where I can only presume he used to sleep. Whilst the ghost in Foster has scared the pervious owners to sale, I have never found him particularly threatning and I think he must like us because he's being a friendly guy, chilling, hanging out, but not looming and creeping and being all I'm going to posess you and take over your body like.
So, this blog is a toast to my ghost. May we continue to live together in harmony, you are a heavy improvement from that rotten little horn bag I left in Etobicokey.