Jeffrey keeps a horde of oil cans at the ready, to ensure that there is nothing squeaking in his home. He is meticulous about grabbing an oil can at the first pip out of any of the mechanical gadgets in his home.
Doors swing quietly on their hinges, and not one sound is heard when the ironing board is opened for use. No one can complain about the rowing machine, for it is silent as the night.
The only squeaky noises in his house come from his knees, shoulders, elbows, and other joints. There is no oil to quiet them.
Written for Friday Fictioneer by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields at Addicted to Purple.