the oatmeal container was on the counter, a good three inches away from the edge of the counter. the container was empty. i had eaten all of the oatmeal.
the cats were both with me on the coach. the kitchen was within my line of sight, just over the book i was reading. there was nothing on the counter that could have made the oatmeal fall. the air conditioning unit was powered down. there are no strange rodentia living in my apartment, thank you, because though i am cluttered, i do not let things become nasty. if something had knocked it over, i would have seen it moving above the book.
the oatmeal container fell onto the floor. the cats and i, all curious, walked over to the container. it had no reason to fall. it was a random act, that should not have occurred and that was precluded by nothing.
yesterday, i came home, and found a stepladder knocked over. the cats might have done that. still, the proximity of the event with the randomly falling oatmeal container leads me to suspect that other forces are at work.
i live near water. i live near old bones. i live at the edge of two cities, where the lines between settlements blur into a woodland.
i wonder what ghost followed me home the other night. i hope they are friendly. if not, i hope they are at least fans of Shostakovitch, because I have been playing symphonies four and ten over and over again.