Sleuth

Nobody knows that I am here. I'm like a vapor floating high above everyones heads. I am here, but they can't see me. I can see them, but I am transparent. I watch them. They don't know that they are being watched, and that is a good thing. It means they will behave as naturally as possible. I keep intelligence on everyone in this family. One never knows when it will come in handy. Bargaining chips I like to call this intelligence.

I see the short curly haired girl stuff handfuls of dry cereal into the couch cushions of my roommate's girlfriend's couch. I see the tall pretty girl kick the puggle when they are out for a walk. I watch the tall kid stare into the mirror in the bathroom admiring his long hair. I watch as he gets his face as close to the mirror as he can so that he can admire his little fuzzy moustache. Similarly, I see it when my roommate stands shirtless in front of the mirror in his bathroom and sucks his stomach in to see what his profile looks like. Sometimes I snicker to myself, "Yep. You're still fat!"

I know how much time my roommate's girlfriend spends online while he is at work. I know the baby eats puggle food, because I've watched her do it while she is sitting in the puggle cage! I watch the short kid with glasses go through his brother's stuff. I listen to the short kid with glasses sing Bon Jovi songs while he is going through his brother's stuff. I know why my roommate's girlfriend leaves lunch fixings all over the counter until he comes home from work.

I know it sounds awful - spying on people in my own home, but it is really useful stuff! For instance, I know for a fact who colored on the wall with the red Sharpie marker. I also know who poked a hole in the celling tile downstairs. Everyone knows that the tall pretty girl smashed in a row of celling tiles downstairs, but she and I are the only ones who truly know how it happened! (Except she doesn't know that I know)! I know who keeps eating all the peanut butter. I know how the door leading into the hallway of the suite got broken. I know why there are half eaten poptarts stored in the wicker chest in the living room. I can probably tell you the origin of every single wet spot my roommate has stumbled across in the house - on the carpet AND on furniture. I and I alone know the real reason why the baby is crying! I also know why my roommate found a cup of applesauce in the drawer of his girlfriend's grandmother's sewing machine.

These people think that they get away with stuff. If they only knew! I keep all this information to myself, because as I have said, I never know when some of this intelligence will get me out of a jam. I can't just reveal everything all at once. However, I will offer one piece of free advice: if something winds up missing in that house? Three words: Check the backpack.