The following is a guest post written by Jess from You’re Fine Blog. Enjoy!
I found a bathrobe in my room that doesn’t belong to me. I’ve been living back home with my mother for a little over a month now, and it’s just the two of us. I picked up this gigantic deep purple robe that was hanging off the side of my bed. I held it up to my mother to hand it over and asked if it was hers.
“Mmm, no. That’s not mine,” she said. I tilted my head to the side in confusion.
“Well, it’s not mine,” I said. She raised her eyebrows.
“That isn’t yours?” she asked.
“Mom…” I answered. We both held up the robe to the light. We looked at the front door, shifted our eyes to my bedroom, and then stared at each other.
*Cue the ominous music.
This would make a great start to a horror film, wouldn’t it? The mysteriously dreaded and fugly purple robe. It doesn’t end there. I left the next day to go for a run. I came back to my room to find something out of the ordinary like I was Minka Kelly in The Roommate. There was sand all over my floor and bed. It was as if someone went to the beach, grabbed the entire state park and tucked it in their pocket only to dump it all over my room. I haven’t been to the beach in months. I still do not know where the sand came from. So now I have a purple robe and sand as clues. It’s Jessie in the small bedroom with the robe and sand. A little Clue humor for your pleasure. Perhaps you all can help me figure out this mystery.
This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. My freshman year in college, I brought a duffle bag down to the laundry room to clean my clothes. Like an idiot who had faith in mankind, I left my duffle bag down there near the washer for later. I went back to put my clothes in the dryer only to find my duffle bag had been stolen. This is maybe where I started to become a bitter person, amongst other things. I accepted the fact that my bag had been stolen and moved on. After my clothes had been folded and put away, I went to class like any other good student. I got back to my room and I stopped in horror. My bag was dangling on the doorknob of my dorm room. And low and behold, a gross, freshly cleaned thong was left inside. I stood still for probably ten minutes staring at my bag making the “EHHHHHH” noise like Tina Belcher. I looked behind me down the long, dark hallway with a flickering ceiling light. Twitch, twitch, twitch.
Whoever stole my bag, knew it was MY bag. And they “accidentally” left their thong inside. I have never figured out who took the bag. I never got a note, or a text, or a carrier pigeon message. Nothing.
Have any of you come up with a conclusion yet? YOU HAVE?! Me too.
I have a laundry ghost. And it has followed me after all of these years and decided to add sand to the mix to throw me off. Genius.
Please send your thoughts and prayers my way.