A Day in the Life

Thimble hummed a familiar song to herself as she worked. Second Moon of her new house. Just long enough to know the inhabitant’s routine, but still finding new weak spots. Move that coffee mug just that much closer to the edge, loosen the pepper cap just the right amount, make sure the keys were buried in the sugar bowl. You have to be bold somedays, she thought. She blew a kiss to herself as she passed the giant mirror in the hallway. She wondered if the Man kept that special glue in the hallway table drawer like the Man from three houses ago. A thud from the bedroom made her dart into the drawer.

The stupid Man! Thimble barred her sharp teeth in anger. He was definitely not following his schedule. She pushed herself to the far corner, which never saw the light, in case he needed something. Like a pen or very dull scissors. Thimble quickly loosened the screw keeping the blades together. She missed the days of the fountain pen. So easy to make them leak. The ballpoint pen in the drawer would be far too much effort to mess with.

The bed creaked once. Perhaps he just needed to shift. Thimble decided to break the pen, anyway. Suitable punishment for the fear he caused her. She put her feet in the middle and looping her arms over the pen on either side, pushed as hard as she could. The cracks were music to her ears, and when she saw the ink spreading out, she stood up and smoothed her little dress, a souvenir from her last assignment. She really liked that house and spared a thought for the Little Girl who left the shortbread cookies on the nightstand for her. She’d ask Rosette about her, maybe arrange for a House Swap for a day.

The bed creaked again. Well then, that would be her next move. What an annoying sound! Ah! That was the familiar red cap! With a little maneuvering, she was able to carry the metal tube out of the drawer. Perfect. Now, where to begin. The lock? No, that would violate the House Security. Window? Yes. Hmmm. Maybe not, she thought, looking at the lock and the tube. There can’t possibly be enough. Kitchen?

The glowing green numbers over the oven said it was almost five hours into the day. Thimble had to hurry. The Man would be up soon. The oatmeal! Thimble fought the red cap for a moment but had a solid line on the container soon enough. More horrid beeping came from the bedroom. Thimble dived into the hallway drawer, holding onto the red cap glue. She looked through the keyhole, for once thankful for the open floor plan of these modern dwellings. Although that lovely house in the woods of the Old Woman from several houses ago was still her favorite. Thimble wondered if the Old Woman from several houses ago was even still alive. Humans lived odd lengths.

Thimble heard the water running and rolled her eyes. She had forgotten it was the Man’s wash day in her hurry. She scrapped the back of the drawer and sucked on the wood shavings. She wondered if the Man knew this drawer had once held poppy extracts and tobacco. The Man appeared soon enough, neatly groomed and dressed. Bright yellow and blue would suit him better, Thimble thought. But most humans would look better in yellow, according to Thimble. Lily always thought they looked best in orange, but Thimble was fairly certain she was right.

Thimble grinned happily as the Man struggled with the oatmeal container, enjoying his sound of frustration and settling for a bar in colorful wrapping. The coffee was set, and the Man cursed when the mug toppled into the sing with the glorious sound of breaking ceramic. If nothing else happened, today would be a good day for Thimble.

When the Man tried to leave, there was a frantic search for the keys and Thimble had to calm down lest her glow was too bright.

Which became very easy to do when the Man found them in the sugar jar and laughed. He wasn’t supposed to laugh. He began to open every drawer in the kitchen, even leaning to see into the back of the cupboards. Thimble was very lucky that the Man’s watch went off before he was able to search the hallway drawer. She clicked her tongue when the door slammed behind him. Very rude to the sprites in his walls. The Little Girl who left the shortbread cookies on the nightstand for her was never so rude to the poor sprites.

Thimble left the drawer and flew to her little nook in the living room floor. Perhaps she would eat the rest of the mouse and take a nap. She certainly deserved it.

The now familiar clatter of the Man’s keys on the table woke up Thimble out of a dream of fly fishing. She neatened her spikes and made a note to get Dogwood to cover for her next week. She knew the perfect spot to get the mites for bait.

The Man was a tired as he always looked. Bright yellow never lets you look tired, Thimble thought self-righteously. Maybe she should help him with that. He had cumin in the cupboards. She wrinkled her nose at the paper boxes he pulled out of the bag. No meat at all. She would share the next mouse she hunted with him. There was mischief and then there was whatever horror the Man lived. She hunkered down for a cat nap. The Man would be awake for several more hours and she had a long night ahead of her.

The Moon was out as Thimble woke again, and she shivered with its power. Lovely Moon. She crept out and into the open.

Where to begin?

A hard shove made the shower drip. She took out pins that were pressed in the cork. A piece of colored paper fell to the floor and with a shrug, Thimble sent a photo down to join it. The keys went into the bag of rice. The pepper was still in play, but perhaps the salt too? She paced on the kitchen table. If it was the Full Moon, she could swap the salt and the sugar. Within the week. She reorganized the bookshelf as she planned. More glue? On what? The fancy box on the Man’s dresser? Or perhaps she could slip a tie behind the dresser?

The problem was that the Man had too many ties. Thimble tapped her foot on the dresser. The tiny phone was on the bedside table, perhaps she could put that in a drawer. That would be better for the New Moon, she decided, and turned away. Her nose twitched and if the Man had been awake all he would have seen was a tiny blur of blue. On the side table was a small stack of shortbread cookies with the same impression on them as the ones from the Little Girl who left the shortbread cookies on the nightstand for her.

Thimble smiled and went to go unglue the oatmeal. The Man who used to leave the shortbread cookies on the nightstand for her as a child was here! She would have to sold him about the door slamming disturbing the sprites, but that could wait until tomorrow. Or the Full Moon, after she swapped the sugar and the salt.

Cookies didn’t make him immune to ALL of her plans, just most of them. The ties would definitely be dyed yellow.