I know those of you who read my post last Friday were waiting with bated breath to see if I would make it back to civilization alive. I did. And here I am.
We had a few moments of near-maiming in the haunted house, but nothing I couldn’t manage. I think the ghost-sisters were out of practice, since it’s just the beginning of haunting season for them. They still put in a relatively good effort.
First, I stepped on a nail that was sticking up from a stair and almost fell down the steps from the shock. Then I misjudged the bottom step late at night and almost fell up them. The stairs were definitely a big source of danger, but they didn’t take me down—literally or figuratively. That meant I was healthy enough to almost drown from a chemical coma in the hot tub (which did exist!).
Most dangerously, the timer on the gas fireplace in my bedroom was broken. At least that’s what someone less tuned in to the haunting would think. I know the ghost-sisters just wanted to set the room on fire while I was sleeping. Luckily, Dave outsmarted them and turned it off while I was cluelessly dozing away.
I’d deem this weekend a success, since I ate a lot of snacks, wore my swimsuit, and laughed at my friends’ jokes. Plus, bettering a pair of ghosts is an accomplishment all on its own.