Just One Little Pill

Ever notice how some little bits of clutter seem to hang around unattended for months, or years? It's as if their inertia grows with each passing day until they become virtually immovable. First you ignore them, and then one day you don't even see them anymore. The sorts of bits you finally budge when you move your desk or vacate a domicile after many years of habitation.

For two weeks now I've had my eyes on a solitary white pill on a stairwell landing in the bowels of my office building. It lingers there because it came to rest just beyond the footfalls of the stairwell traffic. The passage is rather bland: colorless, lifeless, and otherwise sterile. It is little-used because its entrance is next to a more convenient elevator. Sweeping stairs is obviously extremely low on the to-do list of the cleaning staff. I don't care what cure the little nostrum offers its patient, but I am very curious to see how long it will persist in the stairwell.

Your task: Name one or more tiny out-of-the-way items that you know have cluttered your floor, desk, mantle-piece, rear passenger floormat, etc., for at least six months - things like the toenail paring next to the bedpost, the 3-hole punch confetti under your desk, or that guy's phone number that fell behind your nightstand after the Christmas party last year. Let's see what sort of list we can put together. Comments always welcome.