Strange Old Lady

Do you have a strange old lady in your house—or know someone who does? Maybe you haven’t met her yet, so read on to see what might be in store for you. Author unknown.

A very weird thing has happened. A strange old lady has moved into my house. I have no idea who she is, where she came from, or how she got in. I certainly didn’t invite her. All I know is that one day she wasn’t there, and the next day she was.

She’s very clever. She manages to keep out of sight for the most part; but whenever I pass a mirror, I catch a glimpse of her, and when I look into a mirror directly to check my appearance, suddenly she’s hogging the whole thing, completely obliterating my gorgeous face and body. It’s very disconcerting.

I’ve tried screaming at her to leave but she just screams back, grimacing horribly. She’s really rather frightening. If she’s going to hang around, the least she could do is offer to pay rent, but no. Every once in a while, I do find a couple of dollar bills on the counter, or some loose change on my bureau or on the floor, but that certainly isn’t enough.

In fact, though I don’t like to jump to conclusions, I think she steals money from me regularly. I go to the ATM and withdraw a hundred dollars, and a few days it’s gone. I certainly don’t go through it that fast, so I can only conclude that the old lady pilfers it.

You’d think she’d spend some of it on wrinkle cream. God knows she needs it. And, the money isn’t the only thing she’s taking. Food seems to disappear at an alarming rate. Especially the good stuff—ice cream, cookies, candy—I just can’t keep them in the house. She really has a sweet tooth. She should watch it; she’s really putting on the pounds. I think she realizes that, and to make herself feel better, I know she is tampering with my scale so I’ll think that I’m gaining weight, too.

For an old lady, she’s really childish. She also gets into my closets when I’m not at home and alters all my clothes. They’re getting tighter every day. Another thing, I wish she’d stop messing with my files and the papers on my desk. I can’t find anything anymore. This is particularly hard to deal with because I’m extremely neat and organized, but she manages to jumble everything so nothing is where it’s supposed to be.

Furthermore, she finds innumerable, imaginative ways to irritate me. She gets to my newspapers, magazines and mail before me and blurs all the print. And, she’s done something sinister with the volume controls on my TV, radio, and phone. Now all I hear are mumbles and whispers.

She’s also made my stairs steeper, my vacuum cleaner heavier, all my knobs and faucets hard to turn and my bed higher—a real challenge to climb in and out of. She also gets to my groceries as soon as I shelve them and applies super glue to the tops of every jar and bottle so they’re just about impossible to open. Is this any way to repay my hospitality?

I don’t even get any respite at night. More than once her snoring has awakened me.

I thought she couldn’t get any meaner than that, but yesterday she proved me wrong. She had the nerve to come with me when I went to have some passport pictures taken, and she actually stepped in front of the camera just as the shutter clicked. Disaster! I have never seen such a terrible picture. How can I go abroad now? No customs official is ever going to believe that old crone scowling from my passport is me.

What’s a body to do?

Nancy Roe
Author