We’ve had a fair bit of rain around here lately.
I can’t seem to find a single umbrella in the house, not one.
Then I go to clean out Seth’s car, and find not one or two umbrellas, but five! Every umbrella we own, and some we probably don’t.
I love cleaning out Seth’s car. I once found a black wig and a razor-toothed saw, all nestled together like friends in the backseat. If Seth weren’t the most pure-in-heart person I know, I would have been very, very worried.
I love cleaning out my purse. I can’t locate a single pen in this house, only pencils with all the lead pulled out. I am a writer with no writing utensil. All those brilliant vibes from my resident muse are lost, scattering to the wind to go light upon some other writer who keeps a jar of black Uniballs on hand at all times.
Then I clean out my purse, and lo and behold, fifteen pens.
What do you hoard?