I got a great deal on my house. I’d been a renter for years and houses had been out of my reach until I saw a listing for this place. The price was $50,000 under comparables because of its checkered history. All of the prior owners hadn’t stayed more than two years, and some had lasted less than two months. On top of all that, the last owner had drowned by accident in his tub and the mortgage banker wanted a quick sale. It came furnished, because that was easier for the bank than selling off his property. Because of the turnover, it hadn’t been well maintained, but I like projects like this.
A week later I was relaxing on the sofa after I had painted the interior. The chair seemed lumpy. Checking revealed the journal of the previous owner, Duke Hanley, under the cushion. I felt a little guilty about reading the words of the late home owner, but I was curious about how a seemingly pleasant, happy person had, according to my neighbors, become completely mental before his death.
After the first page, I read sporadically, ignoring the quotidian, and concentrating on the bizarre.
June 13, 20XX – I really like my new home. It suits my needs completely and is easy to maintain. The landscaping is natural, no need for fertilizers or continuing pruning. The yard is small enough to mow in ten minutes with a reel mower. I may want to paint, but not right away. Before winter, I might invest in better windows.
June 20, 20XX – There is a little leak in the shower. I’ll get a repair kit from Jergens Hardware.
June 21, 20XX – Proud of the fix I did. Got it done in ten minutes, and even remembered to turn off the water before I started. Ha-ha.
June 30, 20XX – Leaking again. May be a bad repair kit.
July 1,20XX – Repaired again.
July 3, 20XX – Dammit, leaking again. I’ll call a plumber.
July 6, 20XX – SOB plumber says it’ll cost thousands and he’ll have to remove drywall to get at the problem. Screw that. I can live with a little leak. It won’t affect my water bill much.
July 8, 20XX – The dripping at night is keeping me awake. That’s OK; I put down a wash cloth over the drain. That will quiet the sound.
July 11, 20XX – Now I’m hearing what sounds like whispers and cries from the shower room when I try to sleep. When I go to check, all is quiet. I’ve developed a tic in my left eye, and I can’t seem to concentrate at work or at home whatever I’m doing. My best friends are avoiding me and strangers are giving me looks.
July 18, 20XX – Just when I thought that I had experienced the worst, I woke up this morning with the memory of luminescent, multicolored things growing in my bathroom when I got up to urinate last night. This morning, nothing.
July 20, 20XX – Enough of this shit. I’m removing the shower head and capping the pipe. No more drips, no more sounds. I’ll just take baths. No shower is going to beat me.
That was the last entry. The late Mr. Hanley apparently had gone batshit crazy for some reason. I had replaced the shower head the first day that I moved in, and I’ve had no problem at all with the shower.
There have been electrical problems. This is just the project I’m looking for. I’ll upgrade the wiring while I’m at it. After all, I’m an electrician. Piece of cake.
Appeared in Yellow Mama (illustrated)
Doug Hawley is a little old who lives with editor Sharon and cat Kitzhaber in Lake Oswego Oregon USA. He was a mathematician. In retirement he volunteers, collects music, hikes and writes.
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