Tag Archives: doorbell

Why Did The Ghost Cross The Road?

31 Oct

To get to “The Other Side”. Ha. Just a little Halloween pun to get things rolling.

But, seriously:

In early September, we discovered that our doorbell wasn’t working. A Verizon installation guy had been ringing and ringing and finally gave me a call to come let him in. After he left, I tested the doorbell again. Nothing. Hallelujah. I hate that thing.

Being a good tenant, I let my landlord know and she said it probably needs a new battery (doorbells are powered by batteries?!?). I told her I would fix it…but I obviously never did. That doorbell is an unnecessary evil.

A few nights ago, my boyfriend and I were watching TV when he blurted out: “Oh! I forgot to tell you. Right after I got home this afternoon, the doorbell rang. I went downstairs, but no one was there.”

“Huh. That’s weird,” I said. “I thought the doorbell was broken.”

“It is,” he replied. “I tested it when I was down there and it doesn’t work.”

And then all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I got a pit in my stomach.

“So…it rang…even though it doesn’t work?”

“Yup. Was it the ghost?”

At this point I had to tell him to stop talking about it because I was too freaked out. I asked him later that night if he was telling the truth, and then again the next day. He was.

Apparently, while I had told him about the ghost in the apartment before he moved in, I hadn’t told him the doorbell story. He couldn’t have tried to scare me on purpose with the doorbell because HE DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT. And, the facts that he 1. TOOK THE SAW OUT OF THE ATTIC AND USED IT TO SAW WOOD and 2. was dream talking the other night and told me to “be careful out there; they’re watching you” make this story a whole lot creepier.

I wish he hadn’t told me while we were watching American Horror Story.

Happy Halloween!

Song of the Day: Thriller by Michael Jackson. Just because.

A Ghostly Update

25 Apr

A few odd things have happened around my house since the first ghost post. Ha. Ghost Post. That rhymed!

I have an alarm clock/sound machine combo that I keep on my nightstand. I used to listen to “waterfall” as I was falling asleep each night. It was delightful. Now, it’s terrifying. A month or two ago, around 3:00 am, my sound machine started emitting crazy staticky noises, which it had NEVER done before. It was LOUD. Both my boyfriend and I woke up, startled out of sleep. I hustled to turn it off as he commented “Are you trying to phone home?” I then could not stop thinking that some alien was trying to communicate with me and was too scared to sleep and I’ve been too scared to turn the sound machine on since.

Rachel and Lincoln came to visit for my birthday in March, which was lovely, except it involved day drinking and, because we are old, we were exhausted and ready for bed at 10:30 pm. I left them in the front room and was brushing my teeth when Rachel knocked on the bathroom door to ask if I had just tapped on their door. I had not. She said that she and Lincoln had been sitting in the room when the doorknob started rattling as if someone was trying to get into the room. It happened a few times. When they got up to presumably let me in, no one was there. Spooky.

Note: My apartment can be draughty. I know that. The front door to the apartment sometimes opens when the door to the building opens. The door to the attic sometimes opens when I open or shut my bedroom door. But I know that the doorknob to this particular room is secured very well in the door frame- we had to do some construction on that door when I first moved in.

A few weeks ago, I heard the door to the apartment open and figured it was a draught (see above).  (I am apparently feeling somewhat British today. I much prefer “draught” to “draft”.) I went over, shut the door firmly, and jiggled the handle to make sure the door was properly latched. A few minutes later, I heard the door open again and heard footsteps walk across the living room and then stop. I figured my roommate was home, but upon checking, I discovered that her car was not in the driveway. Then I spazzed out. I grabbed something heavy (I think it was a glass paperweight) and creeped into the living room, convinced that someone had walked into my house. No one was there. I spent the rest of the evening thoroughly freaked out.

(I’m not sure what I was going to do with the paperweight. Possibly chuck it at the intruder’s head? That wouldn’t have gone well, I’m sure. I have terrible aim. I (half-jokingly) asked my parents to buy me a hatchet last weekend so I would have some sort of weapon on hand to attack the ghost. Attacking the ghost is probably not the best plan, but the hatchet would probably come in handy during the zombie apocalypse.)

Oh, my gosh, THE SAW!!!! I keep forgetting to mention the saw!!!! So, I’ve lived in my apartment since October of 2008. That’s a fair chunk of time. I’ve been in the attic countless times. I’ve EXPLORED the attic thoroughly several times. On one of my most recent trips up there, I noticed a saw hanging on nail in the wall. I’m 97% sure it wasn’t there before. I think I would remember a saw. My mom thinks I should move it and see if it shows up again, but I’m not sure I want to make the ghost angry. I mean, it’s capable of moving a SAW.

Also, my doorbell rang on Monday. No one was there. It rang again at 11:00 last night, but I couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed and check the front stoop this time.

Song of the Day: I’m Not Calling You A Liar by Florence + the Machine

I Have A Ghost

25 Oct

I recently wrote a post about my doorbell. What I left out of that post is the ghost who likes to ring said doorbell.

Yup. Ghost. I think I have a ghost.

When I first moved into my apartment, our doorbell used to ring quite frequently- and no one would be at the door. No one would be walking (or running) away from our apartment. No one would be driving away.  No one would be entering the apartment downstairs- in fact, no one even lived in the first floor apartment.

The first time it happened, I didn’t really think much of it. Then it happened again. And then it happened to my roommate. And then it happened to a friend who was visiting and volunteered to answer the door when the bell rang. We all thought it was a little eerie.

Around the time this was happening, I lived with a roommate who had a dog. Now, keep in mind that this dog is a little special (in an eat a block of sandpaper/poop/earthworms kind of way- love you, Miss Molly!), so this might not mean much- but she used to sit and stare at the wall, very intently, as if she were looking at a person or a treat. Sometimes her eyes would move like she was watching something move around. There was never anything there, not even a tiny bug. Sometimes she’d bark at whatever it was.

Then, the phantom doorbell ringer disappeared for a few years. Nothing out of the ordinary happened in the apartment- up until a few weeks ago, when the doorbell rang one afternoon. I was home alone. I went down to answer the door, and you can guess who was there. No one.

And then I started to get weird feelings and seeing things out of the corner of my eyes. I’d walk into a room and the hair on the back of my neck would stand up or I’d see a shadow dart from one side of the room to another. It happens 2-3 times a week and it totally creeps me out, if I let it.

The door to the attic is in my bedroom- it’s a full-sized door that opens to a set of very steep stairs. Recently, I woke up one morning, rolled over, and noticed that the outline of the door was very bright. I got up, opened the door, and saw that the attic light was on. I hadn’t been in the attic for weeks. I’m very careful about turning the light out when I shut the door, and, if I had left the light on for weeks, I certainly would have noticed it sooner.  I asked my roommate about it later that day, and she hadn’t been in the attic either.

It seems that my ghost is getting bolder (and wasting electricity). I just hope it stays a friendly trickster and not some evil spirit who starts tormenting me. I also hope it read my post about how much I HATE the doorbell. Stop ringing the doorbell, ghost.

Song of the Day: Only If For A Night by Florence + The Machine

The Doorbell

26 Sep

OR: Why My Neighbors Probably Think I’m A Bitch

I live in a great apartment. I moved there in October of 2008 and have since felt no need to move out. It’s clean, full of light, has free laundry in the basement, a HUGE attic for storage, a driveway, dishwasher, garbage disposal, big backyard, and more. I love my apartment. But, just like people, no apartment is perfect. Besides adding more outlets, if I could change something about my apartment, it would be to rip the doorbell out of the wall, take it outside, and bash it to pieces with a sledgehammer. Doesn’t that sound like fun???

I HATE the doorbell. It’s loud. It’s intrusive. It plays a song that is entirely too long. If you know me, ask me to sing the doorbell song for you. I’m very good at it.  If you push the button more than once, the song starts, stops abruptly, starts again, stops abruptly, etc. So obnoxious.

If I know that I have guests coming over, I hover by the window around the estimated time of their arrival so I can run downstairs to let them inside before they ring the bell. When I order food for delivery, I leave explicit instructions for the driver to call when he or she arrives. If I could figure out how to cut the wires for the doorbell, I totally would.

Now, because of all my precautions, I know that when the doorbell does ring, it’s probably not someone I want to talk to. Or, more likely, it’s someone visiting the apartment downstairs. Somehow, no one can seem to figure out that the “2” written on the button means “apartment 2” and the “1” is for “apartment 1”. Granted, walking up to our front door and looking at the doorbell buttons can be confusing (there is one for each apartment and one leftover from when the house was a one-family home which doesn’t make any sound when pushed), BUT THEY ARE CLEARLY LABELED.

Over the years, there have been many instances of people ringing the wrong bell. My most favorite was when the bell rang about 16 times late on a Sunday night and, when I finally went to open it, some girl I did not know was trying to bring the girl who lived downstairs-who has since moved out-home from a bar. The girl from downstairs was sitting on our front stoop, throwing up into her lap. Unpleasant. Most recently, the girls downstairs were trying to find a new roommate and had several people over one evening to see the apartment. Before anyone showed up, they had, nicely, put a clearly labeled note on their doorbell with instructions to push and hold the button. Well, both the individual doorbell labels AND the note were apparently not enough for their visitors. Every person immediately pushed our doorbell first.

After the second occurrence of this, I was fed up (it doesn’t take long for me to get fed up with something). It was 8:30. I was already in my pajamas. Both my roommate and I would be in bed soon. We didn’t need our own personal clock tower chiming throughout the evening. So, I wrote my own note, which said something along the lines of “Please do not ring our doorbell! You’re probably here for apartment 1!” with an arrow pointing down to the correct bell. I affixed this note OVER our bell so it was unpushable. Is that a word? It is now.

Bitchy move? Sure. Do I care? No. A nice person probably would have just continued answering the door (like my roommate was) and directing the guest to the correct apartment. I was not feeling like a nice person that day.

Plus, I just really, really, really hate our doorbell.

Song of the Day: My Doorbell by The White Stripes (I like this song, but please don’t ring mine)