The Ongoing Saga of Steve the Poltergeist
My apartment has a poltergeist. We call him Steve.
Three light bulbs burnt out in my first week and a half here in this apartment. No big deal, I thought, after the first one. The apartment has been empty for at least three months, right, so the bulbs are just reacting to the initial shock of having electricity running through them again. (I reason with science learned from Doctor Who and dim memories of Bill Nye the Science Guy.)
The toilet broke down for a few days, but with some intrepid fiddling with that thing that turns the water on/off, I managed to fix it! Point to me!
Then, when my friends Christie (from Scotland) and John (from Ireland) were staying over last weekend, the light in the living room started flickering at odd intervals. Christie and I are both Supernatural fans, so of course our first reaction is this:
(For non-Supernatural fans: salt wards against malignant spirits - making a salt line at the room's openings will prevent spirits from crossing over to you.)
John dubbed the potential poltergeist "Steve". Steve seemed to respond on occasion to things we said. For instance, if it was something he potentially disagreed with, he would turn the light off for a few minutes. I had a small desk lamp set up in there too so we weren't left in complete darkness, and we ended up telling ghost stories anyway, so it was a fun evening all around. Steve was a part of our group!
He seemed to move into the toilet for a few days after John and Christie left (was he sulking?) but I've gotten it working again.
Today, though, Steve the Poltergeist got PISSED. John had given me a call intending to come over to my place to pick up a few books he'd forgotten at Christie's yesterday when we all went hiking in the countryside near her place, but then he missed the last train from Le Havre to Rouen so he texted me back saying he'd pop by after lunch tomorrow. Quite literally as I was texting him back, all of the lights went out. Steve didn't approve of our change of plans, apparently. :P
Anyway, as it turns out, I hadn't just flipped the breaker (not sure if it's the right term - in French, breakers "saute" - "jump"): the breaker had actually MELTED. It was only my apartment that had the power cut, you see. Even the hallway lights were still working. Luckily, the Director of my school was in, and she was very helpful in getting the fixit guy of the apartment complex, the cleaner of the school, to help out. I felt really bad because he'd been invited to someone's birthday part upstairs and we had to drag him away for a complex problem for like ten or fifteen minutes. I kept apologizing (because I am Canadian).
Apparently, I'd accidentally used too many electric things at once. (I was never warned about this.) You see, what I had been trying to do was boil water to have a bath. Remember, my hot water heater still hasn't been fixed... so this earned me a bit more sympathy than if I'd been watching TV, making coffee, microwaving something, blow drying my hair and surfing the net or something... though my Spanish roommate Evelin (who had left like half an hour ago to go out with friends in Rouen on this Saturday night) had turned up the furnaces to maximum, which got me some frowns, but I saved myself by insisting it was Evelin, not me... because as a Canadian I hated heat. (They accepted this stereotype without question, and so stopped chastising me... though it was all fairly good-natured in the first place.) Anyway, I had the light on, the kettle boiling water, and the stove top on with three saucepans. That was what had blown the fuse. I was drawing a bath the 19th century way, I explained. (It worked, after they left and the lights worked again - but it took me like nearly half an hour to do.)
At least now the Director knows all of the problems with the apartment, now. She'd been informed and had ordered workmen to come - I think this week sometime, but not Sunday, obviously. The apartment next door, which had been left unlocked for me last week so I could use the shower, had been locked sometime Thursday evening, so I'd taken a cold shower Sunday morning. (She's promised to get me the key ASAP, tomorrow.) Steve had taken out the lights (and the fridge, briefly). The hot water heater still didn't work.
As my helpers remarked, things always seem to go wrong when it's me here by myself, not my roommate. :P Steve just wants my attention, I think.
All I ask is for the simple things in life: lighting for my apartment, and hot water. The Director is going to follow up on everything for me, so hopefully it shouldn't happen again. Still, I know what my first stop tomorrow will be, should the shops be open Sunday morning: by a few candles and matches, or possibly a flash light. I may need them again.
Three light bulbs burnt out in my first week and a half here in this apartment. No big deal, I thought, after the first one. The apartment has been empty for at least three months, right, so the bulbs are just reacting to the initial shock of having electricity running through them again. (I reason with science learned from Doctor Who and dim memories of Bill Nye the Science Guy.)
The toilet broke down for a few days, but with some intrepid fiddling with that thing that turns the water on/off, I managed to fix it! Point to me!
Then, when my friends Christie (from Scotland) and John (from Ireland) were staying over last weekend, the light in the living room started flickering at odd intervals. Christie and I are both Supernatural fans, so of course our first reaction is this:
(For non-Supernatural fans: salt wards against malignant spirits - making a salt line at the room's openings will prevent spirits from crossing over to you.)
John dubbed the potential poltergeist "Steve". Steve seemed to respond on occasion to things we said. For instance, if it was something he potentially disagreed with, he would turn the light off for a few minutes. I had a small desk lamp set up in there too so we weren't left in complete darkness, and we ended up telling ghost stories anyway, so it was a fun evening all around. Steve was a part of our group!
He seemed to move into the toilet for a few days after John and Christie left (was he sulking?) but I've gotten it working again.
Today, though, Steve the Poltergeist got PISSED. John had given me a call intending to come over to my place to pick up a few books he'd forgotten at Christie's yesterday when we all went hiking in the countryside near her place, but then he missed the last train from Le Havre to Rouen so he texted me back saying he'd pop by after lunch tomorrow. Quite literally as I was texting him back, all of the lights went out. Steve didn't approve of our change of plans, apparently. :P
Anyway, as it turns out, I hadn't just flipped the breaker (not sure if it's the right term - in French, breakers "saute" - "jump"): the breaker had actually MELTED. It was only my apartment that had the power cut, you see. Even the hallway lights were still working. Luckily, the Director of my school was in, and she was very helpful in getting the fixit guy of the apartment complex, the cleaner of the school, to help out. I felt really bad because he'd been invited to someone's birthday part upstairs and we had to drag him away for a complex problem for like ten or fifteen minutes. I kept apologizing (because I am Canadian).
Apparently, I'd accidentally used too many electric things at once. (I was never warned about this.) You see, what I had been trying to do was boil water to have a bath. Remember, my hot water heater still hasn't been fixed... so this earned me a bit more sympathy than if I'd been watching TV, making coffee, microwaving something, blow drying my hair and surfing the net or something... though my Spanish roommate Evelin (who had left like half an hour ago to go out with friends in Rouen on this Saturday night) had turned up the furnaces to maximum, which got me some frowns, but I saved myself by insisting it was Evelin, not me... because as a Canadian I hated heat. (They accepted this stereotype without question, and so stopped chastising me... though it was all fairly good-natured in the first place.) Anyway, I had the light on, the kettle boiling water, and the stove top on with three saucepans. That was what had blown the fuse. I was drawing a bath the 19th century way, I explained. (It worked, after they left and the lights worked again - but it took me like nearly half an hour to do.)
At least now the Director knows all of the problems with the apartment, now. She'd been informed and had ordered workmen to come - I think this week sometime, but not Sunday, obviously. The apartment next door, which had been left unlocked for me last week so I could use the shower, had been locked sometime Thursday evening, so I'd taken a cold shower Sunday morning. (She's promised to get me the key ASAP, tomorrow.) Steve had taken out the lights (and the fridge, briefly). The hot water heater still didn't work.
As my helpers remarked, things always seem to go wrong when it's me here by myself, not my roommate. :P Steve just wants my attention, I think.
All I ask is for the simple things in life: lighting for my apartment, and hot water. The Director is going to follow up on everything for me, so hopefully it shouldn't happen again. Still, I know what my first stop tomorrow will be, should the shops be open Sunday morning: by a few candles and matches, or possibly a flash light. I may need them again.