Under the Rug

Everyday you’ll sit doen for breakfast, lunch, or dinner and your toes will edge along the mat (provided you don’t have carpet) only to find resistance, an opposition. 

It could be a broken texta lid or a pair of scissors, the lid of a drink bottle or a dried pea. 

Either way this obnoxious piece of detritus will be there every day with out fail.

You may have sweeped and cleaned under the rug yesterday, removing all traces of the previous uninvited guest, scoured the very floor with fire like intensity, but without fail a piece of rubbish will still offend your foot everytime you take a load off.

This is the nature of rugs.

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