I must admit. I enjoy a good rummage through a pile of shit. We all have one of these. Some of us have nothing BUT these. It’s like a secret rebellion against everything calm and collected and structured and pristine in our homes and offices. When the floors are spotless and the dishes are away and the filing cabinets are perfect, somewhere, someone has a secret drawer filled with gum, a pencil, 4 condoms, a rusty razor blade, a chewed nipple from a baby bottle when there are no kids in the house, q-tips, half a granola bar, business cards you couldn’t match to a face if your destroyed liver depended on it, a sock, a mini notebook filled with 3 pages of hopes and dreams, someone’s baby tooth with a cavity in it, and coffee stained magazines you were going to use to cut out for your vision board.
Where’s your secret little hoarder spot? I know you have one. If you say you don’t you’re lying about weird shit.