There was an intruder in the house. She had been there for some time and Lindsey was starting to become irritated by her presence. She had caught more than just a few glimpses of the intruder. In fact, the other woman was often exactly where Lindsey intended to be.
That very morning, the intruder had woken Lindsey up by suddenly snoring loudly. Once awake, Lindsey could not get back to sleep. She was frustrated when she found the bathroom filled with a toilet that wasn't flushed, soggy towels on the floor, and empty tubes of toothpaste.
Lindsey looked forward to having some cold chicken and a nice salad for lunch. She wondered why she was surprised to find the chicken picked clean in its box. She placed the remains in an old Ziploc bag and tossed it into the trashcan outside. She returned to where the greasy breakfast dishes brooded in the sink.
The intruder never washed the dishes. She ate the food, used the bathroom, added laundry to the basket, but never actually dealt with any of the chores. When Lindsey needed nail scissors or the remote control, she would have to spend hours searching because the other woman had moved them. She could never find the lotion, the brush, the mascara, or the lip balm. They were never where Lindsey had left them.
"Will you please start to contribute to this household? If you insist on staying here, please pull yourself together, already!" Lindsey made her request from the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. Her voice reverberated around the empty rooms.
The other woman was sitting in the garden on the lawn chair. She drank rich rose tea from Lindsey's favorite china breaker and stretched her swan-like neck in the gentle summer sunshine. Her straight, flowing...