Did you ever pick something up for later? And then forget exactly what it was that you had picked up? And then, in a massive cleaning up (or at least straightening up,) start to go through all of your papers, and feel something with an unusual shape inside of another piece of paper? And, as you are only really straightening while watching TV (ah, my best friend, beautiful multi-tasking! What possible down-side could you have?), you lean in close to see exactly what you have stored away in a piece of paper? And then, not recognizing exactly what you have, you lean in closer, only to quickly remember exactly what it is, and that, after all, you really never did want it sitting right next to your face, for who exactly, after all, does want a dessicated and flattened turtle sitting right next to one's face? And then did you shriek like your imaginings of a tween girl who has experienced her first unexpected encounter with David Cassidy, or Prince Harry, or Michael Jackson, depending on what decade it was when she tweened? And then did you throw the hapless reptilian Frisbee(TM) into the air, only to have your friend (helping with the TV watching, not the straightening out, sadly) look quizzically at you? And then did you calmly pass it over to him, only to watch the exact same process repeat itself, with you as author/narrator, as opposed to unintentional victim?
What's that you say? No? Really? Oh. I thought that would be one of those universal experiences, like first love and hating algebra. My bad.
Hmm? Why, you ask, would one even consider picking up said 2-D terrapin? That is, I fear, a topic for another day. (perhaps at that time I'll upload a picture for you to see as well, gentle readers. )