I think this house is haunted

I Think This House Is Haunted
When I first came to live on this lovely tropical island, my children were quite young and I was exhausted all the time. My husband travelled constantly and I was doing everything single-handed most of the time.
Luckily, the house I rented came with a gardener, whose Portuguese was so garbled, I could hardly decipher what he was saying…he never understood my orders and I didn’t understand his explanations for not having followed them.
He did, however, have a very nice wife who agreed to lend a hand with the youngest baby while the eldest was in school. With her, I could communicate and I was thankful for that.
Theresa would run back down the road with my cute baby to show him off to her friends, while I took a refreshing nap. This allowed me to rest and be ready for the evening’s bath, supper and bedtime story sessions. Things began to run smoothly. I was following a circadian schedule that suited me fine.
One day, I asked Theresa if she’d be willing to come in the evening so that I could attend a meeting. The usually calm young woman became all flustered and begged not to have to come to my house after dark. “Anything but that!” she repeated in tears.
Gently, I calmed her down so that she could explain her fear. Eventually, she came out with it, shifting her eyes towards the garden “I think this house is haunted, haven’t you noticed the red strings knotted around the trees, the mushrooms growing in circles? What about that red eyed black cat prowling around? Everyone knows it comes here!”
How could I tell her I really enjoy my late night prowls through the garden in my silky black fur coat? It’s what keeps me going, really.