I collect some strange things. Usually, I get over it in time, sometimes not. A long time ago, I collected wine corks, mostly because it was rare that I would actually get to drink any wine that had a cork instead of a screw top. I made a cork board out some of them. Some, I had the hot date in question sign and date it and kept until his face blurred in my memory and I tossed it out (cork and memory).
I kept pop can pull tabs for a while, making long chains of them. Threw them out eons ago. Matchbooks, rocks, seashells, old pennies, apple seeds to sew into necklaces, animal teeth, and buttons. I still keep the pennies and buttons.
The collection I have now never fails to give me a smile. I don't know why. I have pictures of roadkill animals that have been painted by a road striping crew. Really. I have a squirrel, raven, 'possum, badger, chipmunk, and something unidentifiable. I call it the Really Bad Day collection. Does this make me a nutcase, a realist or a dark humorist? Or a bad person?
Not that it matters. To me, it just shows that when you think things can't get worse, they do. Just when you think all your worldly problems are hitting at once, damn, some asshole paints a double yellow down your body. I've had days like that.
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