Ghosts don’t scare me. Haunted houses do not make me shiver (for the most part). I’m not afraid of the dark or of things that go bump in the night. What I live in dread of are crazy people who look just like you and me and who want me to help them with their real estate transactions.

I choose to believe that most people who lead happy and fulfilling lives do not have a lot of fond memories of high school. At the very least they would certainly not say that those days were the best days of their lives. Or maybe I'm just jealous.

It was during a fairly serious downturn in the real estate market that I began to think of writing again.

The only roommates I ever had were in college, both in my freshman year. After that year, I did everything in my power to ensure that I would never have another roommate again as long as I lived.

The two most famous people I have met in person and talked to are James Earl Jones and George Jones.

One thing my father and I both learned the hard way was to never ask my grandmother for something we didn’t really want.

During my junior year abroad in Germany, I received a letter from a person I didn’t know. It was very thick and the return address was a prison in Nevada. I was intrigued, but also concerned. How in the world would someone in a Nevada prison get my mailing address in Germany?

And then I remembered my brother Tim.

When I was around 3 or 4, before I entered Kindergarten, I became convinced that I would never learn to read.

I am not a fan of the word “adulting” for several reasons. First, “adult” is a noun and to add -ing to it to make a present participle is annoying. Second, it is a whiny present participle.

A high school acquaintance recently Facebook messaged me and asked me what the address of my childhood home had been. I told her it didn’t have one. It had a route number. Route 3, Murray Lane.