Please Stop Trying To Cleanse My House of Evil Spirits, They Do The Dishes
It happens every time: I invite a friend over for brunch, a tarot reading, or an intravenous drug party, and they soon notice that my house is clearly haunted. It’s admittedly hard to miss— objects fly around seemingly of their their volition, and there’s that faint, creepy whispering from deep within the walls. I try to reassure everyone involved and mediate between living and dead, but no matter what, someone always freaks out. The spirits particularly don’t like Kaitlyn (which is pretty fucking fair—she eats gluten and thinks Beyoncé is just okay).
The problem is that my friends—the well-meaning, spiritual people that they are—always start trying to throw salt around and recite banishment incantations…without even asking. Like that’s in any way okay.
I get that in most situations, most people would want their house cleansed of evil spirits, but you have to respect individual boundaries, and that means not sending me out of my own goddamn house because you “forgot” to pick up the kombucha so you can form a chanting circle while I’m gone. Oh, yeah, I know exactly what they’re up to. One time I went to the bathroom and came back to find Kaitlyn hastily throwing some burning sage out the window. I’m sorry, but you just don’t start setting herb fires in a woman’s home without her permission. Completely torched my tulips, too. I brought those back from Amsterdam, Kaitlyn.
Because the thing is, if I have to choose between Kaitlyn and my spirits, it’s gonna be my spirits every time. They’re great! They tidy up the place, make me tea in the mornings, and fetch the remote when it’s too far away. I came home from work the other day and found that they’d completely remodeled the bathroom. Where did they find an antique clawfoot tub? I don’t know, and I’m not asking questions. Yeah, it probably has something to do with the devil, but that thing is six feet long. And the fixtures? Say what you will about the forces of darkness, they have impeccable taste.
Okay, yes, my spirits can be a bit unruly. I don’t always like the way they rearrange the furniture, the whispering does get a little annoying, and the occasional neighborhood pet has gone missing. But you don’t understand. I never have to get up. And you know who else can be a bit unruly? Everyone’s kids. But I don’t start trying to banish them to the otherworldly realm from whence they came. When was the last time your kids put all your favorite shows in your Netflix queue? I’m betting “never,” but if I tried to feed them to my spirits, you’d have a cow. My spirits wouldn’t even want them. They only like innocent souls.
I just wish we could all find a way to live in harmony. I swear, they’re really good spirits. The negative energy just riles them up, so if people would just chill the fuck out I could get them to stop whispering and throwing ceramics. It’s either that or people can stop coming to my house and enjoying my imported fair-trade cocaine, because I’m not doing another dish so long as the underworld continues to smile upon me. No, sir.