Everyone has a junk drawer, don't they?
Mine is the size of Texas on a bad day.
There's a lot of no-name stuff in there.
I open it as if there were something dangerous and
foreboding lurking within the tangled mess of
Walmart receipts, recharged batteries, half-burned
hurricane candles, nails, important lists, a hammer,
It's volcanic in nature--I'm never sure when it's going
to rumble and spew out of control.
The layer of junk is so deep that some things have
jumped behind the drawer to the bottom cabinet.
I've cleaned it out a few times, but it's like spaghetti--
it grows and grows, like a fungus.
Questionable items are thrown into the drawer.
There are assorted wood screws and allen wrenches
that probably belong to something in the house,
like the sink or some chairs.
Tom doesn't say much about the mess anymore.
I know what most everything is in that drawer--
plus, it's convenient.
It's also liberating to know that I have control
over my own drawers...