A Creature of Habit

I've been looking at this sticker stuck to the floor all week. Every time I see it I wonder what it's supposed to be. I guess it's either the number '89' or '68' depending on the direction I'm standing (or sitting). I imagine that it's one of those 'inspected by' stickers that get attached to clothing at the time of purchase. Something someone overlooked when they ripped the tags off their new shirt/skirt/pants/dress. This could never happen to me. I must wash my new clothes before I wear them so if I did inadvertently leave the stickers on, they would have fallen off into my wash machine, or to my dismay, lodge themselves like cement to the inside of my dryer from the heat induced permanency. On second thought, it could happen to me if the item is a 'dry clean only' piece then it's going to be worn more than once before it ever gets clean. But I am careful to remove all evidence of newness to my clothing - don't want to be walking around looking like Fannie Flagg on Hee-Haw.

The thing that bothers me about the sticker being stuck where it is is that it's on the floor in the third bathroom stall on the third floor of the building where I work. It makes me think the cleaning crew needs to do a better job. Of course, I could just bend down and pick it up, but the thought of doing that without the benefit of rubber gloves grosses me out. So I leave it there. I first viewed it on Monday morning, it was still there on Tuesday, and by Wednesday I was thinking that I am now on a mission to see how long it goes before someone picks it up. Now it's Friday and it's still there. The more I dwell on it the more I question my own character. Am I that arrogant/lazy that I cannot bend down and pick the thing off the floor? And why is it that I always choose this exact same stall to use when I go to the bathroom? Why am I such a creature of habit?

I wonder if that sticker will still be there on Monday.