Mother is at it again. I came home to find that she’d rearranged the furniture. I swear, she has absolutely no respect for feng shui. Explaining it to her was obviously useless. She clearly wants to have things as they were when she owned the place. Exasperated, I head downstairs into the basement to put her in her place. I smell her before I see her, naturally—an irksome effect of the situation. She hasn't changed much since I last saw her. Maybe a little more bloated if I really feel like being scrupulous. I grab the salt off of the shelf and begin to pour, walking a full circle around her, going slow. It needs to be thick. Next come the candles, of course, since the old ones have burned to the ground. I light them all one by one—east, south, west, north. I messed up the order once and that was just a mess. Content with Mother’s binding circle, I turn off the lights and head back upstairs to put the furniture in its prior arrangement. All things have their proper place.

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