Imps ... or ineptitude?

Imps and poltergeists? Or just ineptitude and self-sabotage. 

You be the judge.

Our household was beset by a series of bizarre occurrences recently – all on the same day and all seemingly the work of a mischievous imp … or worse. Now, I consider myself a rational man, a materialist – not in the consumerism sense but rather in the belief that the physical world holds sway over the spirit world.

My ego may have to rethink this. 

For if goblins and imps and dark incorporeal forces are not responsible for my afternoon and evening of mishaps it leaves, well, those other two options.

It began, quite ominously, with me walking into my house and being immediately enveloped by thick smoke. And by thick I mean it was inhabiting every corner of every room on every level. Someone, either me or my wife – or that imp – had left the stove on high under a pan of brownies. 

I will not delve too deeply into the ensuing hysteria, but Lordy, thank God there are no tapes. To be fair, I acquitted myself fairly well given how panicky I was over the well-being of the cats, who were scurrying about, seemingly unharmed and not all that upset until they noticed how upset I was. I raced through the house opening every window, then tried every way I could to grab the cats and put them in the garage or on the deck to get them out into fresh air. 

But the more I chased them, the more upset they became and then ... the smoke alarm went off in the basement commanding me to “evacuate immediately.” I grabbed the alarm and smashed it on the floor as the incessant siren was only adding to the cat’s upset – and my own.

I grabbed fans from the basement and deployed them upstairs and down, then called the fire department even though there was no fire. They couldn’t have been more professional as they assured me that the air seemed fine now and, it being non-toxic smoke, neither I nor the cats were probably in any danger.

Later that evening as my wife and I watched TV with the windows still open and fans still blowing, we heard a crash in the kitchen. The plastic suction cup plant ledge above the sink had collapsed into the sink, sending dirt and crockery in all directions.

Later up in the bedroom, after sweeping up the mess in the kitchen, we discovered a perfectly round soaking wet spot on our bedspread and were more than a little curious what might have produced it. Do imps have bodily functions, I wondered, never having weighed that notion overmuch.

With a change of sheets, we finally retired for the night after a day of otherworldly phenomena, hoping the poltergeists had had their fun and gone on to the next house.

That’s when the plant ledge came crashing into the kitchen sink again. 

We are selling the house. The alternative is to admit that it was I who left the stove on, I who loosened the suction cups on the plant ledge when frantically opening the window, I who had failed to properly resecure those cups after the first crash and I who had … listen, whatever else I did that day, I did not pee on the bed.