We have a ghost in our house!

We have a ghost in our house.

Yep.  You read that right.  We have a ghost in our house.  Crazy thing about this ghost:  it has an uncanny fondness for soap.  Yes, S-O-A-P… soap…keep up here, I’ll never get this told if I have to repeat myself!

We first noticed this poltergeist a couple of months ago.  We had ripped out the bathroom, and finally had the tub up and running again.  Oh! The joy!  Not only was the tile from this century, but the joy of being able to bathe in my own home again was glorious (if you have never done a major renovation, you just don’t understand)! 

It was a sunny day in fall, the window was open in the bathroom & a mild breeze played with the shower curtain.  I stepped into the shower & relished the steaming hot spray as it warmed my face & shoulders.  I reached for the soap… where’s the soap?  Now, I knew I had put soap in the shower just a few days ago.  There was no way that bar was gone already!  But… maybe one of the kids dropped it in the tub & it melted.  Oh well… I’ll just use the kids’ body wash.

I finished my bath in peace, wrapped in my robe & went to the kitchen to get another bar of soap.  I carried the soap to the bathroom, and place it on the edge of the tub.  Then, I went about my getting dressed.

Two days later, the ghost struck again.  I heard my husband call from the bathroom, the water running in the background, “Honey?  Hon-ey??”  I rushed to see what he needed, “Hey!  What’s up?” 

He didn’t miss a beat when he replied, “I need some soap.  Could you get me a bar?”

“What do you mean you need soap?”

“Um… well… there is no soap.  I need some, please.”

“Sorry Honey… it’s just that I put a new bar in there just a couple days ago.  I wonder where it is?”

“Well, I’m sure it’s around in here somewhere, but could you please get me a new bar so I can finish my shower?  Please?” he grinned at me through an opening in the edge of the curtain where he held it open.

I walked to the kitchen, retrieved another bar of soap, and gave it to my husband.  Then, I began to search the bathroom:  I moved the laundry basket, the upholstered cube the kids use to sit on when I dry their hair, the bin of bath toys, and my husband’s discarded laundry.  Nothing.  I thought a moment, then looked behind the toilet, then dug through the bin of bath toys.  Nope!  Zip, zilch, nada!  Where had the soap gone?

Oh, well… on with my day.

A week or so later, I walked through my dining room when I was stopped short by an odd-shaped object lying in the hallway.  I walked closer and… it was the soap!  How the heck did it get in the hallway?  I picked it up, noticing the odd impressions in it; holes here and there.  Weird.  “Hey guys,” I called to the kids, “Let’s keep the soap in the tub, please.”  “Okay Mommy!” came the reply.

Another week or two passed, and, again, I noticed the item in the hallway.  “Hey, you two, which one of you keeps carrying the soap into the hallway?”  My daughter, the six-year-old, is my informant, and frequently speaks for the pair of them, “It wasn’t us, Mommy.  Honest, it wasn’t!  We’ve been playing in the living room.”  I was perplexed, but I knew she was right.  They had been playing in the living room.  “Hmm…” I said, “Well…I just don’t know how it got here… Oh, well.  Maybe it got kicked into the hall from the bathroom?  Just be careful, okay?”  “Yes, Mommy,” and they were off to play again. 

What was going on with the soap??

The answer came within a few days. 

I was in the bathroom, seated on the “throne of thrones”, when the bathroom door slowly opened, and my dog’s head poked around the corner as if to say, “Whatcha doin’ mom?”  “Well, hi.  What’s going on Old Man?” I asked my furry child.  Taking this as his permission to enter, he opened the door, came into the bathroom, and seated himself on the mat on the floor near my feet.  We were quiet for a few seconds when I began to hear something: sniff, sniff, sniff… sniff, sniff, sniff!  I crinkled my brow, because, while I may be sitting on the throne, I was merely hiding to read a magazine article; not actually making a stinky!   The Beast began to lean toward the tub.  “Odd.  What is he doing??” I thought to myself.  Then he got up, leaned in, and picked the soap up off the edge of the tub!!! 

“HEY!” I said loudly, stopping the Beast dead in his tracks, “DROP IT!” The soap dropped on the floor, and my old dog looked at me abashedly before sulkily “mozy-ing” out of the bathroom.

DING! DING! DING!  Mystery solved!  My dog was the soap bandit; the ghost; the bubbly perpetrator!!  I suppose I should have been upset, The Beast had inconvenienced me time and again, but it was so funny I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything but laugh about it.  Who knew bath soap could be so tasty? 

So!  If you’re ever petting my dog, and notice something smells “Ivory-fresh” or makes  you think of an “Irish Spring” morning… you’ll know the cause!