There is something more dangerous than the icy slope, stronger than the hungry pull of gravity, more treacherous than the scree-strewn slopes of a mountainside: it is the dreaded flat surface. The side table, the bench, the seat, even the kitchen stool is not safe. A magnetic force pulls objects towards the alluringly safe surfaces. Their pancaked placidity cries out for detritus to be stacked upon them which then become trapped, immovable as Easter Island stones. There is no known remedy to combat the flat surface; as yet preventative measures have proved unsuccessful. Where is the measuring tape? The baseball cap from last summer? The key to the lock on the gate? Check the nearest flat surface.