Eh, I'm sure it's fine
On a scale of one to ten, a slimy outlet ranks as a 4 on the wtf-o'-meter. Certainly not the craziest thing that's happened while living here, but still annoying.
After several hours in which my pink cleaning gloves and several towels had been permanently stained lime green, I came to the realization that the slime slowly leaked from the only outlet in my foyer was not stopping anytime soon. I was just about spent with ideas I was getting tired of mopping up the puddle of goo that accumulated overtime if went unchecked. I did everything I could think of! I bought those little safety plugs to see if I could stop the flow, but the slime just oozed around it and onto the linoleum. I even tried to take the outlet out myself, not that it changed anything. It wasn't coming through the wall or the outlet box, just oozes out the plug holes! The second I put the plug back in the wall, it started leaking again! My last-ditch effort was to bring it up to my landlady. I brought it up when I asked about my dryer for the umpteenth time, but she didn't believe me. I also need to remember that this is the lady who talks to her cat, and I mean talks to her cat. Bucephalus is a big fat Persian cat with dark eyes that just stares at you. What's worse is that my landlady is always holding him when she answers the door, but then out of nowhere, she'll go "Huh?" to her cat like he said something and then have a one-sided conversation with him. Bucephalus doesn't really say anything, but just stares at me like my soul is on the menu.
Now, I'm no electrician, but I'm pretty sure outlets leaking green slime aren't a common problem. At least I know how to change an outlet, now. Funny thing is, the outlet still works, but any light you plug into it has a green tint. Thank the lord that it's only over the linoleumed section of my apartment. If it was carpet, the stains would NOT come out! Can't say the same for that section of the drywall, though. Trust me, this stuff is worse than spaghetti sauce!
Most people would have probably moved or freaked out. Me? I just figured out a way to keep it contained. So now, every morning, I make sure to empty the Tupperware containers I've placed below the outlet in the woods outside. I'd be buying trash bags by the dozen if I were to just dump it in the trash bin, and I don't want to pour it down the drain or the toilet because I'm afraid of what might happen if that goop ends up in the ocean, so I've just dump it outside in the woods. A bit of a contradictory environmental choice, but nothing bad seems to have happened. Well, save that weird looking plant that has been growing where I keep dumping the slime…eh, I'm sure it's fine. Mutant plants are better than mutant fish, right?
…Eh, I'm sure it's fine.
When the sun sets over the trees and the sky turns dark, Game Night begins in my apartment and I participate for what could possibly pass on paper as a friendly group-activity. In reality, it consists of me utterly sucking at whatever the activity of the evening is, be it endless rounds charades or hangman, which Chalk loves, or poker, Fred's favorite. If I had to pick anything, I like boardgames. My favorite is Monopoly, but that one has been banned because of what happened the last time we played. At some point during the night, Fred and I will get into an argument that devolves into mindless yelling or cursing and Chalk will try to add her two cents on the subject, but that usually leads to another bout of charades. After a few hours, I call it quits and hit the hay because my mortal body cannot keep up with the likes of them.
"A giraffe?" I called out from my seat. Chalk firmly shook her head and continued to stretch one arm into the air while swaying around the room like she was drunk.
I looked over to my right to see Fred's written answer.
An industrial crane
I stared at him, "What! Where did you get 'industrial crane' from?" I asked in disbelief. I looked back at Chalk to see her nodding enthusiastically at Fred and I threw my hands in the air with a cry of "Oh, come on!" And fell back to my seat with a glare aimed at Fred. He was facing partially towards me on a stool in a way that made his fixed cherubic expression look smug.
I reached over and ripped the note with his answer on it away to see if he had something to say, which he usually does.
I growled and tore Fred's note off before ripping it in half in front of his stupid little face. Chalk stood up straight and clapped a few times to get our attention. A small cloud of white powder emanated from her hands like two chalkboard erasers being clapped together, and I winced and held my breath. Chalk then launched into a new round of charades.
"Chicken?" I guessed, from how she flapped her arms and strutted about the room, "Rooster?"
I glanced over at Fred's to see the answer.
Chalk applauded Fred's answer and I felt the need to complain, "Oh, come on, they're the same thing!"
No they're not
I glared at the ceramic pain in the ass and said, "Yes they are!" And ripped away the note.
No they're not. Doofus.
I let out a frustrated noise and looked to Chalk in hopes for backup. No luck there. Or reason. Or sanity. Or anything that made my life easier.
I groaned and stood up, "I'm going to bed!" I declared, having enough insanity for one night. Chalk waved goodbye and I didn't bother seeing what smartass comment Fred wrote. I walked into the bathroom, got a shower, and went about brushing my teeth. Halfway through brushing, my reflection in the mirror spat into the sink, put down his toothbrush, and stared at me until our eyes met.
"What?" I asked past my toothbrush.
"You're still not used to it, are you?" My reflection asked me.
I frowned and scrubbed hard at the back of my molars. That reminds me, I haven't gone to the dentist in a while.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
My reflection crossed its arms and looked at me with a scowl.
"Your whole life is here, and you're stuck in it." An almost disappointed shake of the head followed, "Like an elephant on a tightrope."
I was taken aback by the words. My reflection (or mirror, I suppose) has never talked to me in such a manner. Sometimes it says things regarding what's on my mind at the time or occasionally reminds me of things I forget. This was a new development that I could only respond to with a, "Huh?"
My reflection let out a deep sigh and leaned forward, "Take my advice, stop balancing and get off while you still can."
I can't say I remember a time when the bathroom mirror cryptically lectured me in ways that make no sense. I looked at the mirror and asked, "What the heck are you talking about?" But stopped when I realized I was on the verge of arguing with my reflection, which was now back to normal. Well...that was weird. Well, weirder. I shrugged it off by the time I got into bed. My life had stopped making sense ever since I moved here, and all I could do was add it to the pile.
All things considered, it was a pretty tame day, minus the outlet. Soon, that will become just another routine that gets me through the week. A mild inconvenience, but a predictable one; just how I like it. Living here wasn't easy at first, downright scary, sometimes, but I eventually just got used to all the strange and bizarre things that seem to revolve around my apartment. Certainly better than where I was before. Eventually, I just got used to having a talking reflection, levitating objects, a haunted television program, and just about everything and everyone else that can be considered spooky.
But sometimes, the weird stuff that happens in my apartment isn't always random supernatural shenanigans. It's not always ghosts, or monsters, or broken laws of physics. Sometimes the things that occur are naturally of this earth but are just completely out of place.
Case in point, the flock of pelicans that flew by my bedroom window just as I began climbing into bed. I don't live near the oceans and I don't think pelicans are even native to the area…
"Eh, I'm sure it's fine." I said as I rolled over and went to bed.