of old doors and new

[Right before this happened, this happened.]

Moving into a new house was as exhausting as it was exciting. There was all the packing, loading, unloading and unpacking to do. Four times in one day, by the way, without any help whatsoever. The mister and I were in denial just friends back then, and I refused to let him help me. I saw this as an opportunity to pull my own weight, even if it meant giving away over a third of the forty two pairs of shoes I owned. I would’ve had to give away the clothes and bags too, had the new house been any farther away.

As soon as I entered the house, I called the number that has remained on my speed dial ever since my epic fight with the psycho pervert landlord – the local locksmith. I had all the locks changed the very same day, thanks to my well-founded trust issues. All the while that the locksmith was inside my house, I loitered in the garden trying not to be alone in the house with him, all the while keeping my eyes fixed on him, worried that he would keep a copy for himself.  (My mom taught me how to do that. Indian women are amazing at this stuff!)

Anyway! After the locksmith left, I proceeded to make myself at home. It took me a few days to get used to the newness. I don’t know if this is strange to you, but I can’t sleep very well in a new bed. But I didn’t mind coz I spent all my waking hours sitting on the low couch next to the french window, gazing at my little garden.

A few days after I moved in, I was sitting on my couch and reading when I thought I heard footsteps followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. Kinda like this, but minus the visual:

Fuck. I nearly peed in my pajamas. There really is a ghost in my house. But why is she making an appearance now? Isn’t she supposed to wait till sundown? 

I sat still for a few minutes, scared shitless. I didn’t know what would happen if I moved. Finally, once I had gathered enough courage, I got up and looked around. I couldn’t figure out which door had slammed shut, and luckily I wasn’t locked in or anything. I waited on high alert for a few hours and nothing else happened, so I forgot all about it. Naturally. That’s how they do it in the movies!

But as soon as the sun set, I found myself clutching the Durga Chalisa like it was a lifeboat. I finally gave in to my fear and called the mister, who came over immediately with a whole lot of support in the form of a bottle of wine.

Over that same bottle of wine I came to the conclusion that when one door shuts, another one opens.

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anawnimiss

Blogger. Crazy bitch. Stalkee. Weirdo magnet. Wannabe housewife. Corporate Slave. Find me at anawnimiss.wordpress.com!

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