Prime-Time Placement

I marched home from the post office, kicked the front door shut, and headed straight for the living room. Seven in the evening is strictly reserved for the nightly news broadcast, not visual bedlam! Right on the polished end table sat a pair of brass coasters, stacked together like a clumsy staircase at an intolerable fifteen-degree slant. Completely ridiculous! Coasters do not lounge crookedly when a proper evening beverage needs level ground. I climbed onto the table edge, planted my brown boots firmly on the walnut grain, and braced both plush hands against the top disc. With one sharp grunt and a heavy shove, I forced it flush until both rims sat concentric and perfectly square with the table bevel. Then I slumped into the corner cushion, boots out, letting prime time begin in peace.