Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Rocks and Soap

I have a confession to make. Well, technically, two. And not so much a confession as a discovery.

I collect rocks.

I discovered this while unpacking my things. Things, with a capital "T". Among my various things I found I was unpacking rocks. Small rocks, big rocks. White and black. Pretty and plain. All, apparently, with some fair significance.

I know they have significance because I distinctly remember, two moves ago, giving away a whole bunch of them to friends -- black and white, pretty and plain -- and resolving to keep only those few lovelies had lots of special significance. That were important. That were especially -- well, special.

Despite this, somehow, I have in my possession a bunch of rocks. A nice, healthy collection.

For a moment I consider getting rid of some of them, these special (and perhaps not so special) rocks. A certain reluctance wells up inside me. One might even go so far as to say a "hell, no! These are mine."

I confess: I am helpless in the face of these lovelies. My rocks. My collection.

I don't think I really need to explain about the soap.


  1. Dilly collects rocks too! I've never worked out how she decides which ones are worth bringing in to show us.

  2. Heck, I can't even figure out how *I* decide which ones are worth bringing in. The odd thing isn't that I do it, the odd thing is that I never realized how *much* I do it.