At his desk, Archer moves about like a hummingbird, shuffling papers and sipping tea from his mug. He immediately cocks his head; an idea is born. He scoops up all of his stray pens and pencils with one hand, and with the other, guzzles the remainder of his drink. He then plunks all four writing utensils squarely into the mug, and quickly admires his work. Then he sets the mug on a stack of loose papers, which are in danger of being blown away by a gust from an open window behind his. Now satisfied, he prepares to go home.
At home, there is no break in his fascination with one thing having multiple uses, often at the same time, though sometimes not. "I stopped trying to reason with him ages ago," said Lisa, his wife. "He just can't stop mixing those uses!" With a lighthearted shrug, she shakes her head.
Meanwhile, Archer is unwinding in the living room. After a few silent moments, he empties a nearby trash can of its contents, and places it upside down. After he uses it as a footstool to reach for something on a tall shelf, he begins playing it like a bongo for several moments. Then he sits on it.
