I willed myself to ignore it. And it, in return, willed my eyes not to waver from its disgusting being. But this was me - dannie - who could refuse to acknowledge the existence of anything like it, without the slightest twinge of guilt. I could walk by its types, oblivious to their presence. But no, here i was, visibly disconcerted by it. Something had changed in me, and it made me as twitchy as jerry mouse being eyed by tom. I was entranced. It stuck to my thoughts. It grabbed me by my face and made me look at it like a forceful husband. It was a fingernail running down a glass pane and it wrecked my morning. Me, who was curled up on the sofa with a hot mug of black coffee, going about the business of having a good morning - basking in the mellow sunlight, now stared fixedly and stupidly into space. It was an itch, placed squarely and inconveniently in the middle of my back. And i was in unholy agony with the need to scratch it. A fly in my soup. A needle in my spring mattress. A little black ant in my perfect tide-detergent-white heaven!
Thus ensued the war of wills. Me still in denial (but failing miserably). It still stubbornly following my thoughts like a former lover-turned-stalker. It stared fixedly at me, making me look at it, against my wishes. I look the other way, it crashed a crystal vase inside my head. I directed my thoughts to something else, it overtook me and waylaid me in my getaway, like a cop in a seedy crime thriller. I distracted my self with a sip of coffee, it startled me with a yell. It was uncomfortable. And i was getting jumpy. But no, i refused to budge. And it refused to give up. All the while, it beckoned to me with its index finger, like seductresses do in movies. Wow, it even had well manicured, red fingernails.
Finally, it became too much to take. My resolve broke. I placed my cup on the floor and huffed to the kitchen. Got a rag. And wiped that miserable smudge off my perfect white floor. That stupid thing that had practically ruined my lovely morning coffee. Me, Dannilla, erstwhile reigning queen of unapologetic super messes, who could be blissfully unaware of hanging cobwebs, dust balls that one could go bowling with and colossal messes that could give the colosseum a complex, was getting affected by a tiny little spot on my floor. Oh heaven help. What on earth is going on?