This Is Us
My Roommate, the Ghost
She doesn’t pay rent, but we’re doing okay
My dead roommate broke a dish the other day, so we had to have a talk. I’ll call her Annie, since she’s a ghost and can’t consent to being included in this essay. I like to ask permission for things like that. But I will tell you about our chat.
Annie decorated this home, when she was alive. She was the original owner and purchased the place about 30 years ago when this suburban New Jersey development was built. It’s a very nice apartment with a soaring three-story great room, two bedrooms, two full bathrooms, and one half-bath. It’s got a smallish kitchen, a nice living room, and a washer/dryer on the second floor. Everyone agrees this is a design flaw, so, on the advice of the neighbors, I keep the water line on the washer turned off when it is not in use.
The rent on this 1,600-square-foot palace is a little less than what I paid for a 580-square-foot one-bedroom apartment in a walk-up building in Los Angeles. That apartment had no central air, although it had a dishwasher. It had no washer/dryer, though there was a tiny laundry room on site. One of my psychic friends stayed in my apartment in Los Angeles and said, “There’s some spirit activity, but nothing negative.” That felt about right.
