In our old apartment in Brooklyn, Jeans would often stare intently at something, but when we looked, there was nothing there. There was one time when I was out of town — Emily was in bed and called me because Jeans was staring at something, and then a weird hazy light appeared in the corner of the bedroom he was staring at. We always kind of thought that place was haunted. It made me dread going into the basement to empty the boiler — when we first moved in, there were all these old dusty children's toys down there, and a ouija board, and a box of textbooks that were all about schizophrenia and stuff like that...I'm not making this up, it was creepy. A great apartment though, and nothing bad ever happened, so the ghosts must have been friendly.