Hello everyone! It's October, the month of creepy critters and goblins. Spirits and ghosts. Ghost hunting and seances.
When
I mention what I love to do, I usually get two distinct reactions. One
is for people to start sidling away from me, generally toward the
closest door. Wish they'd stick around because they don't know what
they're missing. The second one is a person's eyes light up . . .
and they start asking questions.
That I love because I get to share my experiences.
Yep,
you guessed it! I ghost hunt! I just recently received word from
Tennessee that my background check cleared, and I'm excited to head off
on the first investigation this coming weekend.
But
with age and mileage -- meaning my own -- a few problems arise on
occasion. What kind of problems? Think we have the bones
for one hilarious post here. Welcome to Runere Land!
When
you're used to
doing something on a regular basis, you run through a check list without
thinking about it. The details have been ingrained by force of habit.
But I was obligated elsewhere and had to rely on a family
member who offered to run through the pre-hunt checklist for me.
Which
meant I had to CREATE a check list! Over the phone. With another person
scribbling their version of the instructions. Oh, the opportunities for
error run rampant, and not just in translation. Hubby was my victim, I mean volunteer.
"Check the batteries in
everything," I start, holding the phone steady against my shoulder with my
chin, my hands busy with something else. I hear furious scribbling from the other end. It stops.
"Uh, what is everything?" I'm asked. "Exactly. I don't want to do this wrong."
"Both
cameras," I say, tacking on after a bit, "You'll probably have to recharge the
Nikon battery so it's full for the investigation, and buy an extra
battery for the smaller digital. I can't remember the size. I just know
the package when I see it." Dead silence. Wait. Was that a muttered, "
Oh, like that helps". Only half pretending I didn't hear that I tell him, "You'll just have to check to see what kind."
"They're different?" is finally hazarded over the line.
First
item on the list and there is already a problem. I am now clutching the
phone in my hand. Not that it helps. I decide to come back to that
question later.
"Next, make sure the EVP room recorders are
erased from the last investigation, and check the battery levels in each
one. There should be eight units. Oh!" a thought pokes me out of the blue. "I have a
new bulk package of batteries for them somewhere, so toss it in the ditty bag for
me, please?" The scribbling sounds come much slower.
"How
do you erase them?" That sounded a little peeved, but it was a good
question. And maybe another problem. The instruction manuals got tossed when a g-kid spilled grape
juice on them.
"Depends on whether it's the Sony
units or the other units. I tell them apart by the little squigglies and
shields on the tops," I offer helpfully.
No way was I admitting that muscle memory was all I had to go on. Desperate, I
close my eyes and imagine holding one, allowing my fingers to move as if
operating it. "If it's one with the shield thingy on the front, you hold the almost small button, not the small small button, on
the right side for three seconds . . . .
. . . . Why don't I hear you writing?
Never mind. I'll get someone else to drive and clear them on the way to
the investigation site."
"Next?" is grumbled at me. I stick my tongue out. It's not like he can see me.
"See
if the EMF detector is working. That's the hand held, white,
wedge-shaped plastic
thing with a fan of lights from green to yellow to orange to red on the
top end. If it isn't working, change the
battery, please? The small screwdriver to open the back is the zippered
side
pocket of the ditty bag." I relax a bit as scribbling sounds resume.
"Pick a couple of extra nine volts for it. And new SD cards for the
cameras. They can be minimal storage since I use a new one at each
investigation."
A grunt comes over the line. I assume
it's agreement and plow on. "My laptop battery has to be charged, so
plug it in before you start doing anything else. Oh, and before I
forget, toss the car charger in the ditty bag! Well, not toss. Hate when
it gets tangled with all the other cords in there and I have to take
every single thing out--" A throat being cleared ends my rant. "Put t in
the small zippered inside pouch, please," I ask, my voice subdued.
"Put
the drinks in the fridge, but leave the insulated bag out on the
counter. That way they're chilling, but you see the bag so they don't
get left behind. That should in turn remind you to add the Ziploc bag
of mini cheeses from the crisper drawer. And the cheeses remind you to
tuck in the box of crackers. Crackers are salty, so tuck in cookies for a
sweet. And maybe some fruit. But if you add fruit, I'll need one of the
personal size wet wipes packages to get the sticky off my fingers. You
got all that?"
"I've got a headache starting."
Hmmm. You have to applaud honesty.
"And while you're out getting batteries and such, fill the truck and check the fluid levels. And make sure the g-kids haven't left any Happy Meal boxes or fishing tackle in the back seat. One is only embarrassing," I keep talking as I think,
"but the other ends up being a trip to the emergency room to remove the
treble hooks from someone's backside if they sit on a lure."
Did he just choke?
"Oh.! Oh! Oh!" My enthusiasm is palpable. "MEL's coming
with me, too! For the very first time!"
The ensuing silence is hostile. It all but
pokes me in the ear.
"Who the hell is Mel?" explodes over
the line. "How new is he? Has he been checked out? How do you know you
won't be riding with some axe murderer or
something? I thought I knew everyone in the group."
Aw, he's worried about me! How cute after nearly thirty years! And maybe a tad jealous?
The injury in his voice does as much as his next comment to negate that
misconception."Somebody could take off with my truck while you're
investigating!"
"MEL's not a who, MEL's a what," I
snap. "He's the larger yellow handheld unit with needle EMF gauges and
temperature recording capabilities. With a bottle cap shaped thingy on
top with a wire poking out of it. But you have to open the box to see
him. You can open it, but don't you dare take him out. Put him
--gently!-- in the ditty bag on top of the rubber-banded tablets and
pens. But you know what? This check list thing is not working. And when I
get home the
first thing I'm going to do is kick your truck!"
Good writing everyone!
~Runere~
Author
Paula Hardin is part of the continuing #Tag! You're It! Introductory
blog hop. Both of us would appreciate your popping over to her blog to
check out her answers to four questions. Here's her blog address:
http://paulavhardin.blogspot.com/