Buttons in a Loo

I officially hate the pants I'm wearing today.

There are 3 buttons I must do/undo. Two of these three buttons do nothing but try and look decorative. And they refuse to go in or out of their respective button holes. Annoying. Like trying to crack a safe. Only you have to pee really bad and you can't go until the safe is opened. If they were some kind of convoluted pulley system that kept my britches from fleeing to my ankles without notice, I'd not hate with so much button hate. Sadly though, the only one doing any kind of naked preventing is the third hidden button. Which gives me no grief.

So I am at the office lootorium. My back is to the bowl as I struggle with my pants. In one motion I feel the button tension ease, and I hear a *kerplink* behind me. I looked down and one of the two angry buttons is gone. Both were free of their holes, but one was just plain missing. I thought "Get out. There's NO WAY my button somehow got away from me and landed in the toilet. There just isn't."

Oh, but there was. Don't ask me how it happened, because I don't know. When I turned around to look, I saw that button resting at the bottom of the toilet bowl. It looked peaceful, like a nickel someone wished on and tossed into a fountain.

I wished my button a nice trip through the sewer systems of California. I let it know that I hated it, probably as much as it hated me. I silently questioned whether it would actually flush, being somewhat weighted - and to my relief it did. The last thing I needed was to have a button from my pants resting in the office loo, unflushable without a stick.

Don't ask me why this seemed like such a horror, especially when I've got an anti theft TamPen on my desk, in my pen holder.