Today (Sunday), my boyfriend and I went out to try our new metal detector. We had middling success in terms of finding anything to dig up - we were actually getting too many hits as opposed to too few - but as I was driving us to the next place I thought might be a good candidate, a town park, I passed a rarely-taken road
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When I was pointing out the old file cabinet to Michael, I couldn't bring myself to have my hand break the plane of the building wall by reaching through the broken window - it just felt too much like an old horror movie, like there would be something hiding along the wall where I couldn't see it and it would grab my hand.
It being an old psychiatric hospital... yeah, glad on multiple levels that we didn't go in. It would have been easy to get in, but there are a couple big "No Tresspassing" and "Danger: ASBESTOS" signs up; plus I'd rather not get arrested. Well, that and whatever weird bad psychic karma mojo might be skulking around is something I'd just as soon not have hitch a ride home with me. As it was, Michael decided he wanted one of the big thin slate shingles that had fallen off the roof. We'd left it in the trunk of my car, so I had to bring it in to give it to him before I left for work this morning. Goodness knows I'm one serious skeptic with a liberal allocation of natural ghost-repellant (I should hire myself out as an exorcist), but I still hesitated a moment before I brought the slate tile into my apartment.
I found this information, too: http://historicsurvey.lexingtonma.gov/lexareas/area-aa.htm
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