Poor little me had a band-aid on my poor little finger last week.
Crazy Weather = Dry Skin = The Side of My Thumb Splitting Open = Kind Of Hard to Type Which Is a Big Ol’ Part of My Job as a Blogger
So I used a band-aid. And then took a shower. And then the band-aid fell off.
I felt it fall. I saw it on the floor.
And I walked right on by.
And then I stopped to stare off into the future. The future which I know exists due to my past.
I saw myself FINALLY getting that blankety-blank band-aid off the floor. In the vision, I’m wearing rubber gloves. In fact, I’m all decked out for bathroom cleaning. My forehead is glistening/sweaty and my countenance determined.
I’m on my hands and knees. I’m using various tools and substances to peel, then scrape, then scrub and clean what is by then a gooey, sticky black stain. A glue-based stain. A glue-based stain that has attracted dirt and hair and other such bathroom-related disgustingness. Ick.
And then I see my Future Self look straight into my own Right Now Eyes. And I say, “Don’t wait. Do it now while it’s just a band-aid.”
Finally, the Right Now Me gives in, bends over and takes the half-second required to pick up a not-yet-stuck-to-the-floor band-aid and throw it away.
Even though Right Now Me knows that Future Me was being a little dramatic, her incessant drama is exactly the reason why she/I/whoever would have put off this task until it took waaaayyy more than half a second.
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