Welcome back. For those of you not present last week, this is part two of a two-part series on skeletons, monsters and other such terrible trepidations often stumbled upon in everyday common households.

Ironically (and remember, it has to be irony since I’m not the type to believe in ghosts), last year around this same time, I was lounging at home in my new Pajama Grams (a bright yellow shirt with lemons on the pocket and capri-style drawstring pants to match) when I heard the doorbell ring. I arose from my chair and promptly answered it. No one was there. Granted, I hadn’t checked the window peephole first on a Tuscan-style door, but I never do since I would need a ladder to even reach the latch to open it. I returned to my chair. The second I sat down, it rang again. This time, I sprinted to the door and rapidly pulled it open. Again, no one was there. I stepped out onto the porch to see if I could catch sight of someone racing away and there was no sign of anyone — not on the street, the yard or the driveway. There was simply no way anyone could have run that fast.

This time, as I shut the door, I remained standing by it. I slinked down to the floor and waited. Sure enough, within seconds, it rang again. I jumped up and opened the door. No one was there. This time, however, while I was standing with the door ajar, the bell rang repeatedly. I stepped out onto the porch and over to the doorbell. When I pushed down on the button myself, I noticed that it was already down. It was stuck in that position. I knew there was a reasonable explanation. How it got stuck in the down position in the first place remains a mystery, but if it were an actual ghost, I was ready to take him down.

While malfunctioning doorbells are not the culmination of all things eerie, it doesn’t begin to hold a candle to Crawl Space Charlie. In truth, there is no such thing as a real person named Charlie that lives in a crawl space; however, many of this proverbial 19th century body’s things have been found in crawl spaces and behind walls while remodeling. It begs the question if, perhaps, he is still looking for these lost items.

I once found a newspaper article dated back to 1917 reporting on a missing person behind the lath and plaster of my first home. Rest assured, however, there were also articles on child labor laws and local road bonds all sponsored by Z.C.M.I.

There have been people who swear they have had real ghost sightings in their homes. Although I don’t mean to minimize these experiences, I do want to acknowledge that breathing in toxic substances, even the kind that don’t necessarily have an odor, can cause certain neurological symptoms, one of which could be delirium. In fact, mold or carbon monoxide can cause both auditory and visual hallucinations. Vacating the home immediately would be advised, after which either a ghostbuster, an exorcist or a disaster clean-up specialist could be consulted. I would consult the latter first. Like I said, I’m a skeptic.

I did, however, have one of the most frightening home ownership experiences I have had in my adult lifetime just last week — again, ironically in October. This was real and it was bloodcurdling. I awoke around 4:30 a.m. to a noise that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, even my worst enemy (maybe my very worst enemy, but that’s all): the sound of running water. Sure enough, the thing no one would ever want to visualize, even in their worst nightmare, had happened. The upstairs toilet was overflowing from one bathroom down to another in the basement, taking with it drywall, carpet, tile and wood-flooring in its wake. My husband was out of town, of course, and I was elbow deep in sewage. It was Nightmare on Jen’s Street. Top that.

Jen Fischer is an associate broker and Realtor. She can be reached at 801-645-2134 or jen@jen-fischer.com.

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