Even the dead want my snacks
When I was 36, I thought “working on my mindset” meant journaling, mindfulness, and possibly joining a women’s circle called Moon Chalice Magic.
Now that I’m 56? My mind is set alright.
Specifically:
- On red wine and recline.
- On cheese, breeze, and pretending to read.
- On potato chips, dip, and everything else in my haunted cabinet.
Yes, I saw that ghostly hand try to take my snacks back.
Nice try, Casper. No ghouls in my house gobble without consent. I call it my Ghosts Don’t Get Dip policy.
When I said I wanted peace, I didn’t mean inner. I meant a piece of pizza and a wind chime.
I’m not fixing myself—I’m feeding myself. Snacks, ghost hunting, and semi-retirement energy only thanks.
Tell me your snack of choice when you pretend to read but end up communing with the fridge spirits instead.
Haunted cabinets love company.
Share this with a friend who snacks like something’s chasing them.
This message was brought to you by garlic ectoplasm and a deep fear of running out of dip.
🫥 Eternally Crunchy 🌮
— Mrs. Raines Was Here
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“I bought the Haunted Snack Cabinet Guide, and now I swear my chips have their own ghostly fan club. Every time I open the door, I hear whispers… or maybe that’s just my craving talking. Either way, the dip is protected — no spectral fingers allowed! Highly recommend for anyone who’s tired of sharing snacks with the afterlife.”
— Edith B., Paranormal Snack Enthusiast
