Mieux vaut se consacrer aux autres qu'à un nain de jardin!

Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain. If you haven't seen this film, rent it immediately. Only then may you reread this post. (Additional: The Big Bang Theory may have tainted the results.)

Layers of dust on a bookshelf surrounding a particular novel like Custer's last stand. Only a matter of time.
Toothpaste stains in the bottom of the sink.
The little frilly edges of paper, torn out of a notebook, sticking to absolutely everything.
Mascara stains on towels and pillow cases.
The burning smell when melting sugar on crème brûlée.
Steam rising from the toaster ovens.
Ghosts of tape on the walls of an empty room.
The crick in your back after sitting for too long.
The rings around your ankle from the elastic in your socks.
Watching theoretical physicists sit on my chair on the TV.
Cheering when awkward geeks succeed at social interactions.

I like to look for the things that others pretend to ignore. Forgive me if I stare. They remind me that we are, indeed, human. I have flaws, I acknowledge this inevitability. Flaws are what separate the men from the gods.

Heaven knows only too well, we are but mere mortals.

I would rather take care of others than look after a garden gnome.