I have a bunch of plastic ballerinas at work.
Only two are pictured, but I have perhaps twenty - the contents of a standard pack.
They live in a cabinet above the chair in my cubicle.
I have a lot of crap in this cabinet: blank DVDs, a toothbrush, toothpaste, books, packets of personal photographs, my headphones. Almost every day, I need to reach in and take something out.
Often, when I reach for, say, my toothbrush, I will disturb the ballerinas and one or two will fall onto my desk. Sometimes I will return them and close the cabinet. Other times, I leave them lay where Jesus flang them.
As you can see, five are currently down. Over time, all twenty will have fallen. When all are out, I will replace them in the cabinet, and the cycle will begin anew.
2 comments:
At least originally, the number was precisely twenty, divided evenly between pink and blue. The reason for this is too embarassing for me to type.
That pleases me no end that there is an embarassing reason for the number. Thank you for pointing out the even division between blue and pink. I had omitted that detail.
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