The haunted household - Christoph Niemann

A short story by Christoph Niemann.

Maintaining a home is an uphill battle. For quite some time Iʼve suspected that little goblins are sabotaging my efforts.

We try to keep our place tidy. I broom the floor, I sit back, relax and ponder my good work, yet …

… a few seconds later …

… ta-dah! One of those little beasts jumps out to mock me.

These creatures make life difficult in myriad ways.

I love pasta. But there’s always one straggler that stays in the pot and, once dry, will never leave again.

 Another formidable opponent is the little crumb of whatever, which gets stuck between the two parts of our table top.

They ridicule my handiwork.

This guy gets upset when I take off my jacket.

I am deeply embarrassed by my laptop’s scruffy smile.

There goes another remote.

When I set the table in the morning, all the jars are A-O.K.

When I clean up, none of the lids seem to fit anymore.

Speaking of breakfast, why does this guy begrudge me that last bit of marmalade?

Even more annoying is that our dishwasher is always — always! — already full or not yet emptied.

Whenever I have to jot down a phone number, the writing tool I find on my desk will be:

a) dried up.
b) of some useless color.
c) utterly disfigured, because the other day I used it to open a shrink-wrapped package, which I know was not a good idea, but I couldnʼt find those darned scissors.

All the while, the one operational pen is hiding in some ridiculous spot. Joined by the scissors, for all I know.

Things have not improved since we had children.

I am always amazed at the diverse lot underneath the highchair of our toddler.

The kidsʼ room is populated by a wildly procreating tribe of orphaned bits and pieces, who all claim to be descendants of some fancy toy.

By now, I have learned to live with their trickery. Even when they bewitch my wallet and my cellphone.

I actually value their reliability. The lonely playing card, the battery (that may or may not be charged), the mysterious key and the piece of string have been fixtures in the top drawer of the kitchen cabinet since I was a child.

My little household friends may be wicked, but they are dependable companions. And they are welcome to stay.

Except for you, T-shirt Houdini!

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