Ghost in the Latrine

There are many benefits to renting an apartment in a building that is over 100 years old.  You can receive a low grade shock every time you touch an electrical appliance, which saves you money on coffee.  If you're bored, you can go on a cockroach hunt, or try to get the bird out from behind the smoke detector.  When it rains, you can go puddle jumping in the main hallway below the apartment.  Look out for the dead baby pigeon!  Of course, in any building this old, the main attraction will be the ghosts.

There's Esteban, who mainly sulks in the corners of the foyer.  He gets a kick out of unlocking the front door in the middle of the night, and sometimes knocking over the umbrella.  There's Esmerelda, an adorable toddler ghost who likes to rattle the window panes and chant creepy Spanish nursery rhymes.  My favourite ghost is probably Gary.  He haunts the toilet in the main bathroom.  Every hour or two, he forces an air bubble up from the bottom of the plumbing.  They range in force from 'blowing milk bubbles through a straw' to 'airspace is closed in Western Europe'.  We have learned to keep the lid down when the toilet is not in use, and that maybe reading a book on the john isn't such a good idea.  What used to be a peaceful, contemplative act is now a white-knuckled, edge of your seat game of Russian Poo-lette.  I haven't received the 'accidental bidet' yet, but I have a feeling that Gary is just biding his time.

This is a shot of the aftermath of one of Gary's escape attempts.  There was a piece of toilet paper in the bowl when it happened, so you can see the blast radius outlined in t.p. shrapnel.