over the weekend

I might (not today but someday) like to think that the hotel we stayed in this weekend was haunted by a mischievous boy-ghost who trapped us in an elevator
and
I might like to think that in the heavy-with-history tavern half a block away, as we stood by the brick wall halfway down the bar, the ghost of Edgar Allen Poe shattered the ceiling light above my head and tossed the metal base of the fixture on the left side of me and the broken glass it had held on the right. He was nice enough to keep any of it from hitting me. I appreciate the courtesy.