Talking the Talk

Flash Fiction

Talking the Talk

I walk around my house trying to picture it from a stranger’s perspective. I’m putting it up for sale.

“This is crazy,” I say out loud, “I’ve lived here all my life!”

That irritates me. I try so hard not to talk out loud, but when you live alone in a big house... well, this is one of the reasons I need to sell. I am obviously alone too often...

It isn’t just talking to myself, out loud. I’ve been known to have lively conversations with my dog (passed on however.) I also talk to the mice I should be getting rid of…) but worse! Inanimate objects!

I apologize to furniture I bump into... I rotate my glassware so every glass ‘gets it’s chance’ to be used... I have an ongoing disagreement with my vacuum cleaner. I have been known to actually swear at it when it’s stuck, or heaven forbid, sucks up the edge of the rug!

And then, I have heated conversations with tangled cords. I have been known to rip their little ends practically off when they refuse to untangle! But I digress...

I need to sell my house, I need an apartment somewhere. I need to live near humans. It’s not that I’m so fond of people. Though, also not fond of the amount of work it takes work to sell a house, it’s talking to things instead of people, that’s my issue.

This morning I apologized to my sponge because it was falling apart and I had to let it go in favor of a new sponge. My sponge! This can’t be good...

Well, my kitchen table seems not to have an opinion... pffft. I understand, it knows it’ll go with me when I move.

Time to call the realtor...