It might have been the ghost of Patrick Swayze's career

J and I have definitively concluded that our house is, in fact, haunted. The house alarm went off at 1:00 last night, so J went to investigate (I stayed in our bedroom to perform the very important duty of lying completely still so no burglars would find me), and there was no sign of activity at all in the house. Curious. So we figure it's the ghost of the elderly woman who used to live there. In fact, when I first started hanging out with J, we had an episode where we were upstairs and we both heard footsteps coming up the stairs. So J went out the investigate (and, again, I stayed completely still), and nobody was there. But we were talking about it later, and we could each describe exactly where the footsteps were and where it sounded like the person went. Spooky! This is what you get when you live in an 80-year-old house and have seen The Exorcist too many times.