"I'm Alive!"

Most days, when Mrs. Wigglebottom and I walk by the run down house two in from the corner, there's a loud knock at the window and a hand waves furiously. I wave back. The other day, there was no knock, but after we'd gotten a house away, an old man came running out, "Hey, pretty lady, good morning." "Hey," I said, "Isn't it beautiful out? How are you doing?" He stretched his hands out and looked up at the sky. "I'm alive." He said happily. Now, for two days, all I can think about is the ghosts of the Civil War who stole my fucking can opener. I mean, what if one of them was to start hanging out in the yard of one of my neighbors, waving at Mrs. Wigglebottom and I every time we walked by? I'd never have any reason to suspect he was a ghost. "I'm alive," the old man in the run down house said happily. But is he?