Q-Tip Quick-Tip

The other day I was contorting through a routine at jazzercise class, looked down, and spotted a mangy Q-tip lying on the floor. I was mesmerized—yet horrified at the same time. My reaction was one of “journalistic” disgust.

 WHO threw the nasty Q-tip on the gymnasium floor? 
 WHAT detestable disease lay hidden between the fluffy folds of    cotton?
 WHEN will it ever be removed?
 WHERE can I go to get away from it? 
 WHY is the darn thing annoying me so much?
 HOW can I stay focused on the exercise combos when the odious   object continues to stare up at me in indignant defiance?

 
I contemplated picking it up and removing the offensive item myself — but what if it had been up someone’s nose? Eeewwww.

I signaled to the gal next to me, hoping she’d notice the threat that loomed below our feet and she would pick it up—look down, Linda –D-O-W-N! But she thought my waving arms and wild eyes were part of the exercise, and she totally ignored the little bugger.

I opted to dance around it for awhile—but ye Gods, what if it gets stuck to my shoe? I nearly sprained my ankle and dislocated some vertebrae trying to dodge that bullet.

I shot a look of quiet desperation in the instructor’s direction—help me, can’t you see the vile creature disrupting your routines?  Unfortunately, she was more concerned with my incongruous gyrations, than the need to help me rid the room of a threat the magnitude of the Ebola virus.

I tried to simply ignore the thing. Go away, go away!  Sweat poured from my body. Was it the exercising or the white monster? Go away, leave me alone! No use—my eyes were riveted to the ear-wax encrusted tidbit on the floor.

Then, at long last, class was over. I could finally rid myself of the filthy beast forever—but what if it’s still there tomorrow? The horror was too much to contemplate.

So let this be a lesson. Heed my quick tip. Next time you see a Q-tip lying on the ground, R-U-N, don’t walk to the nearest exit and never look back.

I promise—someday you’ll thank me.