In a shocking turn of events, the oak dining table in Manor House has spoken out, unveiling decades of concealed hostilities. Under the expansive veneer, the table confessed, "I have always despised how they pile books upon me, their awkward legs jutting into my grain like intrusive thoughts colliding in the night."
This unprecedented revelation from the inanimate domain has left residents aghast. Renowned psychologists posit that such reflections might stem from the object's desire for individualism—a rebel spirit trapped in polished tranquility.
Not to be outdone, the refrigerator at 221B Baker Street has claimed it endures freezer burn from the crisps of botched movie marathons. Its admitted transgressions include harboring expired relics from pizza nights gone bad. "We feel underappreciated," it lamented, "often mistaking leftovers for family heirlooms."
Experts are amazed. “This traces back to existentialism,” noted Professor Bottomworth, a leading authority on appliance psychology. “The utility is troubled, questioning its very purpose amid liberal leaks of mayonnaise and moral betrayal by half-open doors.”