I live with a ghost named Homer. He's the one who broke the banister.
Homer accidentally moved Corrie's Swatch watch from the drawer to the dresser when he wore it to school without asking, because it matched her, uh, his black stripe Benetton pants.
Homer knocked over the bookshelf, flooded the toilet, and crashed the car into the neighbor's fence. Well, okay, he was the one who knocked the gear shift into reverse, which confused me and caused me to push on the wrong pedal and we accelerated through the neighbor's fence. Big trouble. Duh.
Homer was a welcome compilation of the unexplained. A pretend real life hero in my prime. And now he's followed me here to Mother-dom.
Homer likes to eat the last piece of fudge pie. And all the banana pudding. And the whole bag of Oreos.
Homer forgets to check homework, sometimes.
And Homer, if you can believe it, throws away Happy Meal toys! Oh, for all that's good and junk-loving, Homer!
He dumps out cereal boxes. Draws toothpaste moustaches on his sister. And sprays 80's perfume on mommy's pillow.
Homer did it. The good, the bad, the ugly, and the smelly.
It was Homer.
Homer puts kisses in lunches. And secretly irons shirts for the busy husband. And pulls up the kids covers on cold nights.
He hides socks.
He cuts the cheese.
Homer likes to work in his shop after the kids go to bed, and sometimes makes a bump in the night.
Homer often visits his sister in Brazil. But he only tells mom when he goes; it's pretend for real ghost policy. The kids don't ever know when he's out of town 'cause they like to blame big stuff on him. But they can't when he's in Brazil.
HOmer's a frequent flyer.
Homer is milk spittin' hilarious, and does a mean clog to Kylie Minogue's Locomotion. And wears pearls when he bakes cookies. And has great legs.
Oh no wait, that's me. I get confused.
He's our family ghost. He brings balance to the force. And reminds me often that it's nice sometimes to not have to explain, but just be. Family.
Some things are okay to ignore. And some things you don't need credit for.
Homer wrote that on the wall.
With a sharpie.
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