A Matter of Priority

The windowsill had grown rather stifling, so I decided to grace the hallway corridor with my presence. Right against the skirting board leaned a towering full-length mirror, slightly tilted and reflecting the entire mundane corridor. Propped against its base sat an ordinary wooden hairbrush, shedding a stray bristle or two in a most unkempt fashion. Such untidiness simply offended my delicate aesthetic. With a calculated nudge of my plush shoulder, I tipped the wooden brush flat onto the parquet floor, clearing my pristine sightline. Now, my entire exquisite form commands the mirror uninterrupted. You really ought to thank me for tidying up.