For those of you not in the know, my boyfriend's apartment is haunted.
I did not know this when he and I first started dating--in fact, one day I woke up from sleep and calmly announced to him that I had seen ghosts...and he did not seem fazed.
He then proceeded to tell me this story.
You'd think that, knowing all of this, I would have run for the hills. I am NOT a fan of the supernatural, am afraid of the dark, and sleep with the light on when I can get away with it. Somehow, however,I am copasetic with these particular spirits, and there is generally very good energy in the Beehive household. So I don't sweat it.
Saturday night, I went through the usual routine of falling asleep on Beehive's couch, waking up in a stupor, and crawling back to the bedroom. As always, I left Beehive in a dead sleep on his couch, as he is impossible to rouse. I figured he'd make his way to bed eventually.
Suddenly wide awake, I started to read in the hopes that it would knock me out, and thankfully, about 15 minutes into "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides, I passed out. With the light on. I know the light was on, because the switch is far from the bed, and I was too lazy to get up and turn it off. I also recall waking up here and there thinking "I should turn that off" but never bothering to do so.
5am. I wake up with a start. Beehive never came to bed. And something's weird. The light, it's off! Who fucking turned the light off?
I ran out into the living room, and Beehive was fast asleep, TV still blaring.
"Wake up", I shook him. "Time for bed."
He looked at me confused, not knowing what hit him. "Dude, did you turn the light off in the bedroom?" I asked.
"mfflkjgl" was his reply.
Next morning, after a very good sleep-in, I asked him again if he turned the light off for me at any time during the night.
He shook his head.
"Awww. The ghost tucked you in," he laughed.
Nice. The ghost is concerned about conserving energy, as well as my comfort. What more could one want?