I Think It's Elves.

I swear there's something wrong with this family. Something not quite right; something one might say were almost fantastical.

I mean, we've all been running hard and fast, so mess accumulates, as it does in any other House of Chaos, in the corners and the deep shadows of cupboards, sprinkled on the surfaces and floors in a proud show of filth.

But as I start to chip away at it, I notice something strange; there's a limited spray of your usual packaging, clothing and grime, but mostly, there is stuff. Some of it, I admit, is left-out stuff, but half of it, is not. Half of it is stuff that serves no purpose, ugly, space consuming stuff and stuff that's downright weird.

We don't know where it comes from. None of have been out to buy a fresh supply of stuff, we haven't had the time. And the old stuff that no-one dares to throw away, not knowing its origin or whether it belongs to someone, a momento of an age that's passed, stuff I know has not been used, is everywhere again... No-one has removed it from its safe and tidy box, or shelf, and yet here it is, in daylight, posing as ornaments or books, or kitchen knick-knacks. Weird. I think it's elves.