I must have gloated about my Thursday off a little too loudly, because the universe is paying me back in the form of a massive headache that is threatening to turn into a festive Easter migraine. I’m trying a 4-pronged attack – water, caffeine, Advil and food – to try and beat it into submission, but as of right now, the only part of me I can move without a significant amount of pain are my fingertips. Good for typing; not so great for the grandiose plans I had for the day.

Our building might be haunted! Ghosts would be way better than the logical alternative – I let criminals into the building so they could commit crimes – but no one is really sure what happened. Two nights ago, my phone rang after midnight – it was the front door. I answered it, and a lady said “This is the Vancouver Police; can you buzz us into the building?”. I was asleep and the voice was polite but authoritative, so I let her in. She buzzed again a minute later, asking if there was any way I could let her into the parkade. There isn’t, and I said so – I’d have to come down with my fob and let them in manually. The “police” said not to worry about it; they’d find another way. I went back to sleep.

I told Ed the next morning, who stopped just shy of accusing me of being an accomplice to a roving gang of police-impersonating hooligans  and that it would serve me right if the “police” turned out to be hipster hooligans who touched Lola all over and maybe stole her. I wasn’t worried before, but now I was panicking – hipster hooligans would LOVE Lola! What if she’s gone?! It would be all my fault and Vespa would never let me adopt another because I’m an irresponsible rider! Noooooo! It didn’t help matters at all when he questioned why the cops would buzz me and not him, since he’s first on the intercom list and I’m second (maybe they were looking for a foreign-sounded name and hoping to prey on cultural confusion? That’s racist AND sneaky!) – I spent my morning shower in a lather of dread and bubbles.

The Troll was in the lobby on his way out, and he stopped to tell her. To make matters worse, it seems that SHE is the sole police contact for the building and if there are any issues, they’re to contact her and not a random tenant. It was looking more and more like racist hipster hooligans attempting to zergrush our parkade, and it was all my fault. She said she’d check with her police contact and review the security tapes, just in case.

I don’t know what happened with the contact, but she had some startling news for Ed this morning – they checked the tapes from that night, and there was nothing. No racist hooligans , no police, no nothing – no one buzzed anyone at any time. He came upstairs to confirm the time with me, and I showed him my phone – two calls from the front door, the first at 12:10 and the second at 12:11. The calls DID happen – but were they from beyond the grave?! Do ghosts ride scooters? Maybe I’ll buy a lock for Lola.

Weird stuff. Maybe we’re built on an Indian burial ground! Having a poltergeist would be awesome – think of the stories!

I’m going to be really disappointed if there’s a logical reason for all this.