It's a small stand, but a stand nonetheless

I think I may be in an inadvertent Mr. Potato Head feet stand off.

You see, there, behind my dresser, the one that is usually stuffed so full that I have to open it a crack and shove my abnormally large hand in as much as I can and maneuver my yoga pants around just enough so I can open the drawer all the way, even though I don't even do yoga and haven't since that one class I took in college where that cute guy I had a crush on went, but I didn't go for him, I went with friends, and he took yoga way too seriously anyway, but I went there in bright blue pants with elephants on them.

So anyway, I looked behind the dresser because I couldn't find the socks I'd set out to go to wear to the gym and there they were.

The feet, not the socks.  Those where on top of the dresser where I'd left them.  Apparently I am also blind as well as old.

I'd take a picture of the Mr. Potato Head feet but then you'd see the actual extent to the dust bunnies currently residing around them, instead of me just pretending like I'm exaggerating the amount of dust bunnies  This way you have no idea if I'm living with hoarding-level dust bunnies or just 'I live in an old house and the dust seems to multiply faster than I can clean and I'll be damned if I'm sweeping behind my dresser every day' dust bunnies.  I like to keep the mystery alive.  Also not have someone condemn my house on account of the dust bunnies.

You'll just have to imagine Mr. Potato Head feet on the floor behind my dresser surrounded by what I'm sure is a perfectly acceptable amount of dust bunnies.

At first I thought I should pick the feet up.  I mean, I didn't put them there, but I spend my day picking up things that other people throw on the floor just for the fun of seeing me pick them up.

But then I thought, What if someone put them there on purpose to see how long it would take for me to clean behind the dresser and by design notice the Mr. Potato Head feet?

So now I can't move them, you see?  And I can't let the person who put them there know that I know that they put them there.  Because now I'm just mad at the fact that I'm being tricked into cleaning the dust bunnies.


I'm taking a stand.


And who are you to judge me, mysterious Mr. Potato Head feet?

You don't even have legs.