It’s not me, it’s the hobgoblin
Lately I keep losing things, only to have them show up in places I’ve already looked.
I did some online research and now know what is happening: we have a hobgoblin in the house.
What a relief.
This phenomenon goes beyond misplacing objects; I’ve been doing that my whole life. That’s because, at any given time, my brain is juggling five to seven competing ideas, and rarely do they have anything to do with the current task.
If my hands are doing something routine, like making a sandwich, my mind will be off pondering Groucho Marx or Iron Age roundhouses or taxes. If I can’t find the mayo in the fridge, it’s because, in my reverie, I put it on the counter moments earlier.
But this is different.
For example, the other day at lunchtime, I once again couldn’t find the mayo. I expected to find it already on the counter. But it wasn’t.
“Pretty much anything I set down will vanish until I’ve searched the entire house. ”
I then checked to see if I had stuck it in the pantry (nope) or the freezer (nope) or the dish cupboard (nope). These are just my top three go-to wrong locations; there are many others.
After a full mayo hunt in all my likely absent-minded put-away spots, including the upstairs bathroom and the car, I opened the fridge one last time. And there it was—not tucked in the back but up front, eye level, dead center. Unmissable.
If it were only the mayonnaise, I wouldn’t panic. But it’s been happening with my car keys, my lip balm, my coffee mug, my phone, the dog leash and more. Pretty much anything I set down will vanish until I’ve searched the entire house. Only then will it reappear—in the very spot I’ve checked multiple times.
I learned that across cultures, over centuries, people have had the same experiences, and they’ve blamed house spirits, not mental lapses. Brilliant.
I’m calling ours a hobgoblin, but depending on which country or tradition you look at, this unclothed little magical creature could be a Scottish brownie, which tidies the house while the family sleeps but hates being laughed at; a German kobold, which wears a pointy, red hat and can shapeshift; or a bwbach, a Welsh elf that, as far as I can tell, steals vowels.
It could also be a domovoi, a haltija, a tomte, a nisse, or any one of many mischievous beings that have, throughout history, gaslighted people into checking under the bathroom sink for the mayonnaise.
Hobgoblins and other house spirits can play pranks (hiding objects being their favorite) or, if angry, wreak havoc. But they can also protect the family and help with housework.
I’m not sure if we got a semiretired one or what, but ours hasn’t so much as unloaded the dishwasher yet. Then again, it hasn’t killed our livestock either, so we must be doing something right.
Legend says I can get on the hobgoblin’s good side by putting out a bowl of cream for it at night or possibly sacrificing a rooster. I’m leaning more toward the cream at this point. But if grocery prices keep going up, the rooster better start looking over his shoulder.
The hobgoblin doesn’t target Mark at all. I’m not surprised. Mark moves with the swiftness of a tectonic plate and focuses on only one thing at a time. Because I tend to ricochet around the house like a mongoose after a third espresso, the hobgoblin has more opportunities to snatch my things without my noticing.
There are ways to get a hobgoblin to move out, the most common being to make it a set of clothes, which it finds insulting. I’m not doing that, not just because I can’t find my good scissors (though I can confirm they are not in the freezer). It’s more because I need the hobgoblin here to be my personal scapegoat.
I get annoyed that several times a day my phone disappears, only to show up minutes later right where I set it down. But if I choose not to believe that a hobgoblin is sneaking around playing tricks on me, I’ll have to conclude that I’m losing my grip.
Sure, the hobgoblin comes with the danger that, in a fit of elfin pique, it might kill our livestock, or worse.
It still beats the alternative.
✦ ✦ ✦
(Originally published in the Addison Independent March 2025)
