The previous owner of our house apparently made quite an impression on everyone who knew him.  He was a lawyer who had two (now adult) daughters.  He and his late wife moved into this house about 4o years ago. He died two years ago.

Since we moved in, we have heard many stories about this quirky guy:  He kept indoor furniture in the garage and dragged it out each night to read on the driveway.  He bought man books which filled every nook and cranny in the house.  He never cooked and ate out three meals a day.  You could set your watch by the time he left for the local pub each evening.

I like quirky people, so I find these anecdotes to be somewhat amusing.

The former owner had a girlfriend we will call Joan.  He dated Joan for 11 years.  Unfortunately, Joan seems to be having a hard time moving on.  I know this because Joan has now stopped by our house FOUR times since we moved in.

The first few visits, I was sympathetic.  She came in and talked to the construction guys before we moved in.   I was cleaning the poop out of the garage, she was suddenly peeping over the hedges.  We made small talk, she told me about the dead guy, she cried, I was appropriately kind.   The next day she was at church (conveniently next door to my house!) and saw Mr. A in the yard and stopped by to introduce herself to him. One of the neighbors reported that she came to their house  to talk to them and staring out our house for two hours that day.

Unfortunately, Joan sees a LOT of parallels between our family and the dead guy.  Lawyer with two daughters, mostly, I guess.  The dead guy worked at Mr. A’s old firm, so that is another similarity.  Beyond that, there isn’t much more because we don’t hoard books, Mr. A isn’t a widow, he isn’t eccentric, etc.

Joan has asked repeatedly to see the house when we are done fixing it up and I said “sure” because I am nice.  I think that was a mistake.  The other afternoon, she called our house and asked to come see the floors that very same day.  We are still doing a lot of work and the house is a wreck, so I asked her to come Sunday instead.

I showed her the floors and made a point to say I was in the middle of painting and couldn’t socialize very long.  I also attempted to keep her in the living room, but she pushed right past me and walked all through the house.  Opening every drawer and closet she passed along the way (!!).  She told me endless stories about the dead guy who was apparently “almost ready to finally marry [her]” and “this would have been [her] house”.  (A claim the neighbors say is quite dubious because the guy seemed perfectly happy to live alone with his books.)

She even insisted on leaving a scrapbook she made about the dead guy, ostensibly for Mr. A (who could care less!).  I think it was a ploy to come back again.

She is starting to really creep me out.  I believe she is trying to hold on to the dead guy by obsessing about the house.  I think we are going to have to set up some clear boundaries, but I feel a little bit bad.  I feel sorry for her, but we need this house to start becoming our house.  The dead guy’s ghost (and his girlfriend) needs to GO.