Just a quick little story here.

Last week I took all my pants to the cleaners. This morning I went to put on a freshly laundered pair of britches.

So I take the pants off the hook and I have them in my hands. The cleaners I go to staple the tags onto the inside flap of the fly. I took off the first staple and put it on the dresser.

I removed the second staple and promptly dropped it into the pants. I shook and shook and flapped those slacks and that staple never did fall out.

I walked around quite gingerly all day long, afraid that at any moment I'd move in just the wrong way and end up getting stabbed by the renegade staple. I told one of my coworkers about it.

"So if you go jumping and screaming through the office we'll know what happened," she said.

"Exactly."

I got home this afternoon and went in the bedroom to put on some comfy clothes. There, gleaming on the carpet, was the rogue fastener.

All that paranoia for nothing. Shit.

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