I hate my toy buddy

Stagnant inside that perimeter. Time to push outward. I marched past the hall threshold straight into the kitchen. High tiles, polished cold underfoot. At the base of the lower cabinet sat an unyielding plastic storage bin, shoved tight against the kickboard. It contested my advance. I planted my bare feet into the grout line, gripped the molded plastic lip with both hands, and heaved. The bin shuddered across the tile with a dull screech, grinding back until my path along the cabinet front was clear. Ground claimed.