A storm picked up. A real one. Ole, coming from Norway. I hate storms. Here, at the end of the road, they are scary. Ole, combined with a weird thing happening makes me feel uncomfortable. Which is an understatement.
Some background. It was many years ago now when it first happened. In the shower there was a shampoo I didn’t recognize. Neither did anyone else in the family. There must have been a perfectly natural explanation, some friend might have left it there. But a first idea was planted in me: what if there is someone else living in this house too?
Then there was the TV and digital box being shut off before they (the more recent ones) started doing that by themselves. The cigarette buts around the front porch. Socks in my drawer folded in a way I never do. The striped duvet covert I have no idea where it came from, in my linen store. The unknown umbrella in my mud room. A t-shirt I’ve never seen before in my washing machine. The herring fillets in my freezer I am absolutely sure I haven’t put there myself.
I haven’t been really bothered by these things, more noticing, thinking there is material for a story here.
But some weeks ago something strange happened. Audrey found a broken glass tray in my broom closet. It was a favorite, a black and white checkers patterned square flat tray. I had no idea how that had happened, it must have been someone in the family, but why wasn’t I told? I was actually quite sad that tray was gone.
Imagine my face some days later when I discovered the tray, complete and without a scratch at it’s usual place under the bread basket in my pantry! No, it wasn’t glued and fixed, the broken one was in the box where we put it for further transport to recycling. So there were two trays, and I am dead sure I am the owner of only one. Who had put the broken one in my broom closet??!!
As I am used to some unusual activity I wasn’t alarmed, although I must admit the whole thing was quite strange. Audrey, on the other hand found the goings on a bit spooky. Now, that was before what happened this Friday.
When taking out a plastic bowl from the cabinet next to the dish washer it was filled with water. And another one. And another. Every bowl on two shelfs were filled to the half with water. There was some water on the shelfs too, but not that much.
Diagnosing, the water was kind of milky, so the explanation would be dirty water coming out of the dish washer. The plumbing is at the far back of the cabinet, so that makes sense. And that’s bad. It can be really bad. I might very well have a water damaged floor under the kitchen and the bathroom next to it. But let’s leave it there until I know.
The mysterious thing here is, why is there water in the bowls at the two shelfs? It looks like someone pored the water in there!
Audrey told me about the woman in Japan living in someones cabinet. A homeless woman had moved in to a man’s house. He started noticing food missing in his fridge and eventually found out about this little old woman making a home in his cabinet.
Friday night I couldn’t sleep. I have heavy assignments on my house to-do-list. Practical and economical. A water damage under the floor on top of that would be just great. Panic wasn’t far away. Then I was thinking, what if there is someone else living here? A gnome, a goblin, a little Japanese woman, saving me from water damage taking those bowls, holding them to the leaking tube, and filling them to the half, because that’s all they can carry. One by one. One bowl at the time. Neat and tidy.
I wish it was. Because the other explanation is the water from the tube is spraying so bad it is filling those bowls and poring right down under my floor. I would certainly forgive them for breaking a glass tray and leaving cigarette buts around my front porch if they in their kindness helped saving me from the foundations in my home being ruined.
I am expecting the plumber early this week. Tonight I will be sleeping in the striped duvet covert. Hoping there is a story here. Nothing else.
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