Living with the Non-undead

My house is not haunted. On the contrary: instead of housing the undead, it is filled with the living who (like the undead have the reputation for) enjoy making themselves heard in the night.

Our dear dog Wanda, in addition to becoming a huge kleptomaniac, has now taken to barking at crabs at night. Barking at crabs at night is a full-time job and she is rising to the occasion.

We have a tin roof on our house, below which is our wooden ceiling. The coconut rats like to run around on the ceiling at night. The sound of their running feet is so close over my head in bed, that I'm afraid they're going to scrape a hole in the ceiling and fall on me.

Our patio was built around a coconut tree, a classy touch. But in the past year-and-a-half, the tree has grown and is now pushing against the roof, making it groan all night long.

The wind blowing off the ocean whistles through the cracks in the house quite loudly - along with the coconut tree groaning in the roof, this gives the aura of living in a haunted house.

I have grown accustomed to all these sounds and they don't keep me awake anymore, well, except for Wanda's barking; THAT still wakes me up.

When all the sounds die down, I hear the waves breaking on the shore. I see the moon and starlight reflecting off the clouds and sprinkling shadows from the palm trees across the front yard. This is a great place.