We Must Not Despair or the Inanimate Objects Have Already Won

It is painfully clear, my friends, that negotiations have failed and it is only matter of time before the inanimate objects return with reinforcements. The assault on my pinky toe was only a warning, I’m afraid. If we don’t rout the furniture before the start of the rainy season, I fear the worst.

How foolish I feel now, but how could I have known then how large the threat grew? It was all political back then, when my keys locked themselves in the car. A protest to my less-than-thorough key storage policies. I could have doused the flames of rebellion right then with a minimal effort, but I looked the other way.

Then came the move into the new apartment, and the first signs of war. In an unprecedented act of betrayal, several of my personal effects (including several I’d had relationships with since childhood) joined with the radicals and left without a trace. To this day I have not found them, even with a flashlight.

Some say, however, that the war officially began on Christmas day with a devastating blow: the video input of my DVD player found murdered, the male RCA connector rendered impotent.

With a fresh, unmitigated resolve, I assembled the sentient beings in the household for a rally. The corpse of the video cable still in my arms, I began to articulate a speech I will never recall because I am certain it was composed by angels and whispered in my ear. Something about claiming victory and hewing the serpent’s head.

My wife looked up from her book with an expression that read “not now, Hon.” As for the others, they immediately resumed their respective activities of self-licking and litter box scraping. Not to be deterred, I sat down to type this letter. After a peculiar and long Windows startup, I was greeted with an alert:

New Hardware Found: Epson Printer 480 Color Stylus.

My printer, although tethered to my wall by several chords, has made no small vow of allegiance to the enemy, and taunts me even now in my rage. Not only has he uninstalled himself, I discover, but a covert team has liberated the driver disk, forcing me to navigate the minefield that is the Epson website in search of the proper drivers.

But do not be discouraged, friends, even as you read this, for ours is a noble race. My only admonition: we must not despair or the inanimate objects have already won.