Ever get that feeling when you’re washing the dishes and one of those tiny tea spoons fall through the sink, and you try to dislodge it from the blades of the garbage disposal, and while you’re moving your fingers around the dark cavern, feeling the sharpness of the metal rub against your skin, you look at the switch in all its stillness, you know there’s no possible way for the machine to start, still you begin to hear, think you hear, a muted noise of whirring and grumbling?

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