The point is that before extended weekends, my work-related anxiety usually kicks up a notch. Did I unplug the thing? Did I lock the whatever? Should I have reported x y or z to so and so to avoid the apocalypse? It kicks in a few hours after I leave work.
Therefore, I'm going to engage in intentional distraction. I thoroughly enjoyed the reddit scary story on the mainpage. I want more (and real) scary stories. I know it's not halloween, but it's been a little while since we creeped each other out with ghost/horror stories, right? (And I know, I know—the SCOTUS ruling this week was definitely a real-life horror story.)
I'll share one—feel free to share your own.
Years ago I shared a house with three other post-college women. This house was a big, fantastic, three-story row home in a decent Philly neighborhood. It also could be scary as heck when you were there alone. First, no overhead lights anywhere except the bathroom and the kitchen. You had to fumble in the dark from room to room until you found a lamp. Second, the third floor was...off. Not scary off, just off in the "Hm, no one else is home and that's definite scraping and thumping going on up there" sense. But it all seemed pretty benign.
On Valentine's weekend, I was home alone for three days as all of my roommates were gallivanting at their significant others' places for the weekend. I coped by holing up in my room with a huge pot of mashed potatoes and all the episodes of Bones hulu has to offer—until I get burned out by all the blood/bodies and switch to reading some kind of thriller ghost story.
Then my bedroom door suddenly pops open three inches. I get up and shut it tightly again because I really cannot handle sitting there and staring into the dark abyss of the hallway. At this point I'm freaking out—the door only does that when the pressure in the house changes from someone opening a door elsewhere (old house, weird quirks). Just as I crawl back into bed, it pops open again. I get up a second time and shut it as tightly as I can.
Suddenly the door swings open the entire way and I start screaming like I've been stabbed, and whoever/whatever is at the door is screaming along with me.
One of my roommates came home early and crept through the house like a ninja because she didn't want to wake me. Went into her own room to change. Saw the light on under my door and walked in to say hi, only to find me practically pooping my bed in terror.
So, thankfully it wasn't a ghost there to murder me. Roommates, though. Scary stuff.