You have a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast, then you leave it lying around next to the computer all day, only to pass by it at 3 am, and you're torn between feeling guilty about leaving it there and cursing the rest of your family for being too lazy to pick it up, so you pick it up yourself and take it to the kitchen, then have a heated debate with yourself about whether you should wash it or just leave it lying there on the counter, then your stupid conscience kicks in, so you decide to wash it, only once you start scrubbing the bowl, you realize that the few pieces of Cheerios you haven't eaten are now solid rock and pretty much stuck to the bowl as if they are decorative embellishments, so you start scrubbing and scrubbing, because now it's a personal matter and those Cheerios are challenging your authority, and amidst all the anger you don't realize how much dishwashing liquid you've used, and how slippery the bowl has become, then there's this sinking feeling, something isn't quite right... because, suddenly, the bowl is slipping through your fingers after a particularly violent scrub, and is now flying through the air, slowly, slowly, then descending towards the ground, slowly, slowly, and then it hits the ceramic tiles and bursts into smithereens, and you close your eyes and tell yourself this isn't happening, and that when you open your eyes you'll be next to your computer, reliving that moment when you passed by the bowl, except this time you're thinking, nawh let someone else pick it up...
but when you open your eyes, the smithereens are still all over the floor, so you give yourself a little whack on the head, and start cleaning up the mess, sighing every now and then at how stupid you are, and lecturing your conscience about how it should pick on somebody its own size?
Yeh. I totally hate it too.
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Yeh. I totally hate it too.
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