A Proper Perch

Catching a discreet ride back inside the canvas pocket spared my boots after that long afternoon at the flower market. Returning home is always a relief, but stepping out onto the dark entryway console table revealed an untidy situation. Resting beside an open ceramic key tray, a stray brown kraft paper envelope was sprawling diagonally, partially burying a petite glass bottle of scented oil. Leaving paper tilted across polished wood simply lacks discipline. I leaned the blue staff of my giant paintbrush against the tray rim to secure my footing, stepped across the grain, and gripped the stiff paper edge with both hands. With two deliberate shoves, I aligned it squarely parallel to the table border, then sat atop its crisp fold to rest my boots. Order restored, thoroughly.