A Destructive Force

* The doors have come off the bedroom closet. I can't get them back on. The wheels won't align with the tracks. I may be trying to put them in upside-down.

* There's a light burnt out in the bathroom, and two more in the bedroom. The living room lamp's fried its wiring. I put in brand new bulbs, and they won't light up.

* The lint trap's come off the dryer again. I just had it fixed, and all.

* The toilet seat's broken away from the bowl. I don't know what to do. Do I have to buy a whole new toilet, or just the seaty part? Where would I find such a thing? Are they all the same, or do I have to take measurements?

* The oven's self-clean cycle won't run. It cuts out at four hundred and eighty degrees. (Maybe I'm setting it wrong.)

* The edging keeps coming off the hardwood floors. I glued it down when I first moved in, but it refuses to stay. I keep tripping over it. The piece behind the couch is the worst. It always rips my socks.

* My black poloneck has a hole, where collar meets sleeve.

* All my spoons are bent, and all my forks have been in the garbage disposal.

* There's still a spot on the wall over my desk.

I think it's me. I think I break things. The toilet seat, for instance: I've stood on that, a couple of times, so I could clean the top of the mirror. I probably stood too hard, shoogled it loose with my feet. The lint trap, too--I never emptied it till it started to overflow. (I didn't know I was supposed to. Mother told me, later.) The poloneck fell victim to my huge sticky-out ears. I touched the halogen bulbs, and put a beanbag chair in the closet. I should be banned from civilised living.

I think I've broken my new novel, as well. An obnoxious character has crept in--a violinist named Dolgonosov. He's taken over completely. He's been with the protagonist's mother, and also with his wife. He's the equivalent of the giant rats from the last book: an irritating external force that soaks in by degrees, and ends up ruining everything. What an absurd development!