Down with Toes

I've discovered that my little soap container, when full of a new bar of soap, is surprisingly heavy and vindictive. It seems to be single mindedly determined to rid my feet of toes. It leaps down upon my feet from wherever I set it. The soap container particularly enjoys the inside shower door rail as it has an extra 2 feet to pick up speed before both crashing into my toes and giving me a heart attack. (It cunningly waits to dive-bomb until I have shampoo running down over my eyelids.)

The soap container may have misunderstood my own hatred of feet. It's true - I find feet extremely unappealing. Feet range on a beauty scale from hoarkingly disgusting to meh. I've yet to see a foot older than a year that has achieved a ranking of cute or even okay. Even so, I understand their usefulness in actives like walking, driving, and keeping me from falling over when I come to a stop on my scooter.

You have no comrade in me, soap container. You may find yourself trapped between the shampoo and that wall before the week is out.