It's no secret how much I love antique furniture. The thought of a camelback edwardian sofa can send me into a wild frenzy, no lie. But my mom hates them, she's always afraid there'll be ghosts of past owners living in the furniture, and they'll bother you every day at inconvenient times.
On antique tables:
"In the middle of the night, you see the ghost sitting at the table, 'This is supposed to be a set, where is my chaaaaair?' every night. 'Why did you buy the table and not the chaaaaair?'"
On antique beds:
"It'll shake every night. boom boom boom boom boom. Every night while you're trying to sleep."
On mirrors:
"Don't even talk about mirrors! When you're brushing your hair, 'Come with me to the other siiiiide'. Your face turns into the ghost (she stretches her arm out) 'Come with meeeeee, to the other siiiiiide'."
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5555555555 I just read this entry out loud to my friends to illustrate how crazy our family is.
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