Please Pass the Salt

My dear lady,

You are between me and the thing I want most at this very moment. Yes, you - the woman sitting across from me at this square three-by-three table - lie betwixt the condiment containers and my plate of steaming vegetables that demands their attention. Your chair blocks my arm and decency blocks my body from reaching over to claim them, but you are in an ideal position for such a reach. Hence my request:

I deem that the time it would take me to remove myself from my chair, walk around the table and capture the seasonings is much greater than it would be for you to lean over yourself and grab them. I also value my time more than I value yours making such a request doubly advisable. Your effort would be so much more insignificant compared to mine and your exertion would bring a healthy flush to your cheeks and maybe even have calorie burning advantages.

As much as it pains me to put you in such an awkward position and ask that you interrupt your train of thought and motor movements in order to satisfy my wishes, I feel that the request and commensurate reaction are an appropriate course of action.

To put my solicitation in a less garrulous form, I sincerely desire your attention and obedience as you deviate from your preplanned course of action and abide by my wishes. Please pass the salt.