MY HAIR

B51I have a small house in a little railroad town in Tennessee that was built in 1925.  I am only the third owner and when I bought it, no one had lived in it for a number of years.  (How I aquired the house is a story for another time.)

The house is definitly “occupied”.  My first day of work at my new job was my first night in my new home.  With everything still in boxes and no tv, I pretty much just brushed my teeth and crawled into bed.  I was exhausted from the whirlwind of moving and cherished the thought of going to bed early for a good night’s sleep.  No sooner had I slid between the sheets and let out my exhausted sigh, they were there.  They were all talking at the same time, each pushing to the front trying to get my undivided attention.  It was like trying to sleep in New York’s Grand Central Station!  I rolled over and even covered my head but they were persistent.  I finally sat up and said (with my mind) “Please, I am tired and have to be up early in the morning.  Let me get some sleep and I promise to visit with each of you.  Please!”  It was quiet.  They turned and left.  I watched and waited a few minutes and yep, they were gone.  I laid back down, burrowed into my pillow and was able to sleep as well as could be expected in my new home.

I did keep my promise and for the time that I lived in that house, I had several visitors and spent time with the ones that wanted my attention. 

The one that probably unnerved me the most was the one that was obsessed with my hair.  Nothing dark or evil but it would make me hold my breath.  Day or night, I would be reading or watching tv or tooling around on my laptop and something would touch my hair.  It was always the left side of my head.  Take your four fingers and ever so lightly push them through your hair, without touching your scalp.  Creepy, isn’t it?  My hair wasn’t falling forward, it was being lifted back (it was a short taylored cut) and when I finally had the nerve to touch my hair while it was happening, there wasn’t anything there. 

I have to admit that after a few times, it felt a bit endearing actually.  I couldn’t quite make out who it was but from what I could see, it was a young woman dressed in early 1900’s.  I couldn’t see her hair but it definitly seemed that she was infatuated with mine.

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