The man who lives in my basement

There is a man living in our basement. He hears me wake up each morning to walk the dog. While I'm gone, he sneaks out and leaves. Then he comes back sometime the next evening.

Of course, this isn't true. But every morning I think that someone is down there. We don't use the living space and it is this dark hallway that just beckons paranoia. I can't don't even venture down there without Ransom going first.

It doesn't help that every morning I hear random noises. Whether creaks or pops or water running. This morning it was a bang on the thing that carries heat to us through the vent - what is that called? It also doesn't help that I found Ransom down there growling one time. And he never growls.

So, I've just come to accept that there is someone down there who doesn't bother us as long as we don't bother him.

I just hope that I don't feel this way about our basement in St. Louis, because we will be using the living space there. I suppose regularly using and getting cozy the basement will help with the fear, but I'm still thankful that my shadow will be happy to accompany me wherever I go.