Monday morning, as soon as I stepped into office, colleague commented: "Wah, a zit on your forehead!" I don't remember what I muttered and ended the never-started conversation there.
Why is it that we always seem to notice the tiny black dot on a piece of white clean paper, but never appreciate the white clean paper as it is? Why is it we never fail to spot the tiniest imperfection yet never appreciate the-otherwise perfect world?
Ah... monday blues...
Why is it that we always seem to notice the tiny black dot on a piece of white clean paper, but never appreciate the white clean paper as it is? Why is it we never fail to spot the tiniest imperfection yet never appreciate the-otherwise perfect world?
Ah... monday blues...
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