15
No Good DeedWhen I returned to Muriel and Tummler for my next stewardship, my former spot underneath the kitchen table was waiting for me, complete with the asymmetrical stars and formations I once drew. None of which bore any resemblance to reality.
This time, as I lay still, my hands and feet now hit the table legs and chairs. If I moved those chairs, Tummler and Muriel would bump into them in the middle of the night when the bathroom called. To prepare for bed—and more important than brushing my teeth—I swept the floor for crumbs and other debris.
Normally, as I glided from one family to another, the events changed, but the people rarely did. That sameness created stability with an element of ennui. But in this household, everyone and everything seemed spasmodic and kinetic.
Tum
