Seeking an explanation in classic literature
When I was doing my hard time in elementary school (five years before the mast), I read a lot of books. My attempt to find the answers to those questions that keep us awake at night, or something similar. Comic books didn’t provide the requisite number of new words, so I learned about the riches on the shelves of local libraries. Tonight, one of the better bits of kid-lit flashed back into memory.
The Borrowers. Wherein a reason for everything unexplained around the house can be found. I wonder if it still works. You see, things happen around here that I can’t fathom. I was just in the kitchen, and discovered an empty banana peel on the counter. Similar to the skin shed by a serpent. Should I be watching for a softshelled tropical seed pod when I turn the corner? Or, maybe the Borrowers took it, to make muffins or some sort of beneath the floorboards kind of dessert dish.
How about up in the bathroom, where there are often as many as sixteen towels in a (large) heap? I don’t think Aquaboy lives here. Maybe the Borrowers had a small flood while testing their latest canoe, and had to remedy the problem in the best way they could. What about when I get up in the morning (and I get up early, before anyone else including the dog)? Why is there a whole set of dirty dishes in (and near) the sink? Did the Borrowers host a neighbourhood kitchen party, with really quiet fiddle tunes?
I could set up webcams and infrared detection systems, but I’m going to carry on with my acceptance of little people that have a parallel community in the space below the refrigerator.
