At Least They're Committed

I do the same thing with pistachios as I do with the waste basket, using an entirely different yet equally as intricate and well-researched methodology. Rather than telling myself there’s “hope” if I successfully toss a three-pointer — such as crumpled paper or various other debris — into the gaping mouth of the trash receptacle, I sift through the pistachios on my desk for any greenish kernels that have escaped their pods, telling myself that if I can just find one, only one, then things are bound to turn out how I want them to and how I perceive they should be.