The stories I know don't involve just one lone man thinking his household appliances are out to get him.
There is a very recent story, post 2000s, that I haven't found that does have that.
But two stories with a similar theme were written in the 1950s.
The closest is
Colony (I Trusted the Rug Completely) by Philip K. Dick (1953). It is actually titled "Colony", but the first time I read it in an anthology, Robert Silverberg's Worlds of Wonder, Silverberg's essay included that full title, and I have always fondly remembered it that way.
It isn't a lone man's house; it's a military science base on an exoplanet, but....
He stopped, his voice choked off –
– Choked off, because the two eyepieces of his microscope had twisted suddenly around his windpipe and were trying to strangle him. Hall tore at them, but they dug relentlessly into his throat, steel prongs closing like the claws of a trap.
And even military science bases have household articles for the people living and working there:
On the floor lay Captain Taylor, his face blue, his eyes gaping. Only his head and his feet were visible. A red and white scatter rug was wrapped around him, squeezing, straining tighter and tighter.
Again it isn't a lone man whose friends ridicule him, but there is disbelief nonetheless:
Commander Morrison held the towel up to the light. "It's just an ordinary towel! It couldn't have attacked you." "Of course not", Hall agreed. "We've put these objects through all the tests we can think of. They're just what they're supposed to be, all elements unchanged. Perfectly stable non-organic objects. It's impossible that any of these could have come to life and attacked us."
A similar story is
"Inanimate Objection" by H. Chandler Elliott (1954).
It's been longer since I read that one, but household appliances in an institution begin to sabotage use of them by having "freak accidents" all the time.
The premise is more that appliances are organized matter, like, you know, life. But its life resists being used for the convenience of human life.
I still vaguely remember a story about a man alone in his house with a microwave or toaster that does not want to be used by him in the normal manner, which matches the question more. But I think it might be fifty years more recent.
