I manage to dry ball about once a year, usually from talking and getting sidetracked.
But speaking of pretty distractions. One college summer, I worked at the Hershey Chocolate factory. I was in the syrup production line. I stood at a machine that packaged cans of syrup, 24 to the case. As the cans rolled down the various chutes, it was my job to open a flattened box from a skid of die cut box blanks. , place the cardboard box on the machine and wait for the cans to be lined up and then push the lever, which started the machine cycling through it's working, placing the cans in the box and gluing the flaps, closing the flaps and sending the box to the pallet stackers in the next room. That was the last summer that the factory was open for tours. Needless to say for a young college student, young summery dressed similarly aged women was an interest. Well, I can still remember a platinum haired young lass about 18, with a dark tan wearing a gleaming white halter top and shorts. I must have been really gawking. When the guy at the machine next to me poked me and said stop staring, he startled me and I pushed the lever to start the machine. Well I pushed just a tad too early and 24 cans of syrup were smashed against the frame of the machine, sending 24 mini geysers of syrup in every direction, including all over me. That drop dead gorgeous gal saw it all and I recall her and her family laughing heartily the rest of the way around the room. The foreman was an otherwise kindly black gentleman. He just would not leave it alone. I got constant remarks about how I tried to become a minority, etc. or that I did not have to try to change color to get an invite to his summer department picnic, etc.