So here I am, bowing down, a true supplicant kneeling before his Masters. You may be thin and brittle, but by sheer numbers you become a mighty force of nature. Like the million drops of rain that make the flood, you have turned my lawn into a parti-colored sea that even Moses would be helpless to part. I beg you to stop, have mercy, desist, but know you answer to no earthly entreaties.
Truly, this day I am humbled. I am bound to this task, and I await next Saturday not with dread, but resignation.