Sunday, perhaps the one day of rest your allowed in the military. Nevertheless an inner urge forcibly installed in you forces you out of bed. You shower, shave, and dress quickly even without time limits. There I was, sitting in the sole chair in an empty barracks room. My shoes were my last article for the morning. One sat clearly on the floor in front of me, and was slapped on my foot in an instant. The second was hidden, but instinct told me it was under my chair. As with many things, the human mind over estimates its abilities, and thrusting my hand under the chair in determination not to stand i stretched to reach it. Twistting and turning my hand, finger tips brushing against the leather of the heel, success was the only option. The floor seemed closer than it was a second ago. I had fallen off the chair and landed on my side. I laughed hysterically at my own determined failure as i lay on the floor. I retrieved the shoe.
