A brooding...

presence, some might even go so far as to say a malign force.

To what am I referring?  No not trolls trying to wreak minor havoc wherever they go.

Sugar.  

If you spill it it craftily lays in wait for you to finish sweeping 

 then as if by magic from nowhere 
you hear a crunch.  Off you go again, on hands and knees this time... 

‘That’s done it!’ 

Happy in the knowledge you’ve cracked it you put the dustpan and brush away.

Strolling nonchalantly back into the kitchen you spy a glint.  Deep from the bowels of your inner being a groan escapes.

Out comes the big guns...

Custer’s Last stand.

The Dyson!

‘The job’s a good’un!’

On to the second phase...

Marmalade.

The ‘sweet’ ingredient silkily 
moves up a gear, in molten form it takes no prisoners.  Sat on the kitchen shelf waiting in the wings for its starring role, it has obviously been watching nature 
programmes.  Method acting eat your heart out: it devours all info on volcanoes.

Ducking and diving you try to test for setting point without getting first degree burns.  Success, the sweet spot is reached! 

After clearing and cleaning the war zone called the kitchen you fall back into the armchair clutching a large gin. 

As you recline exhausted with legs akimbo you hear the cry...

‘What is that sticky stuff on the bottom of your slippers!?!