I am a pack rat. I know how to get rid of things but there is also a part of me who likes holding onto things. I like little boxes in which I can put random stuff. I sometimes buy food, coffee, or shoes because of the boxes they come in. I know that I am not the only one who does this. Otherwise, merchants wouldn’t have such pretty little boxes. There is something about humans wanting to box things that seems somewhat universal. We most definitely feel a need to categorize things, places, and people. It’s a survival tactic, of sorts. But even still my love of pretty boxes seems to go beyond survivability. Regardless of that obsession, I’m here to write about randomly located pens.
I suppose my pens are not randomly situated. They are all over my house, desks, drawers, handbags, and coat pockets. Those all make sense. However, I also keep finding pens in my bathrooms. They are next to my make up cases and my flat irons. Why? I have no idea why these pens are in my bathrooms. There’s no writing paper. I assume I have left these pens to write down notes to myself. I suppose I assume inspiration will hit me everywhere and anywhere. I assume I can write notes to myself on my hands. I have done that numerous times. This makes sense. But, I honestly cannot recall telling myself to leave pens around in so many places. It’s a funny trail of pens that I get to follow everywhere.
If only I were writing the great next novel. Or Marvel Comic. Or pop hit. Here’s hoping!