Ficly

Really?

“Any chance that the stuff in the hall will be put away today?”

I try to keep my voice calm as I gingerly step over the piles of books, assorted sports equipment and what appears to be a bag of shredded mail.

A voice floats out of a nearby room. “Just leave it, I’m organizing the office.”

Organizing the office? “How about if I just take the empty containers and the shredded paper to the recycling?” My foot catches on half a bungee cord.

“Just leave it, I have a system.” The disembodied voice is harder to hear over the sound of a television.

“Umm, hun?” Still trying to remain calm, “you’ve been ‘organizing’ for a week, either finish the job or let me do it." I take several deep breaths .

“What’s the problem? I left a path. Just leave it, some of that stuff is important.” I can smell popcorn, must be snack time.

“If it’s so important, why is it on the hall floor?” My voice has become a bit shrill.

A loud sigh floats in the air.

Apparently, I am being difficult.

View this story's 4 comments.