It is exam time again, which means its time for me to realize that I should have been in the library months ago. I study on the second floor, and I take the stairs just inside the library doors. Since last Monday, every time I make the climb, I am confronted with this:
Fig. 1: The gross gross used bandaid.Someone's sad little lost used bandaid - gross. I have gone through several (five, to be precise) stages with this bandaid:
1. Disgust - used bandaids, much like fingernail clippings, scabs, and really gross and fester-y blemishes, are kind of fascinating but also thoroughly disgusting. I went ahead and got grossed out.
2. Wonder - I wondered how long the bandaid would be there for.
3. Acceptance - I realized around Thursday that the bandaid was not going anywhere, and I became complacent. Almost like having something in your coat pocket for so long that you can't even feel it anymore, I kind of stopped noticing it.
4. Disgust v. 2.0 - I got disgusted again, because used bandaids are disgusting.
5. Action - I finally did something about it.
Fig. 2. The solution - perspective shot.
Fig. 3. The solution.I feel better.