Acclimation

I'm slowly getting used to living with Fanty, my ghost.

Some things are always hard to get used to. I haven't lived with anyone for over five years, and I wasn't planning on living with a roommate. It's the little things that are a problem. He's a morning-specter, I'm a night owl. He leaves the seat down (I'm not sure why, he doesn't pee).

And Fanty needs to stop making out with the pillow cases in my closet.

But, all things considered, the arrangement is working out. No moaning or chains. Well, not from the ghost anyway.

The surprising thing to me is the plain reality of it all. Ghosts are always shown in movies and on television as these knowing, wise or scary beasts. The movie Poltergeist showed such graceful (and at times downright scary) ghost and spirits gliding down staircases and sucking kids into closets ("All media hype" says Fanty).

The movie Ghost portrays Patrick Swayze gliding through doors and having problems moving real objects (why he didn't then just fall through the floor was never explained, oh well). Still he's there to oversee the life of his wife and make sure she isn't hurt, all while thwarting the bad guy and providing Whoopi Goldberg with a mainstream movie role. (Fanty hates this movie, but he was never a Swayze fan.)

The International Ghost Hunters Society portrays spirits as helping figures and the souls of good people caught between two worlds.

They never mention them getting stuck in the ceiling fan.