Let us continue our investigation into the natural history of the humans, as we delve further into their clutter-nest-building activities upon the dining room table.
Again, I ask you: How many writing implements can one actually use? And this assemblage does not include the three to five pens the male usually has in his pocket!
(Note the milk-carton spot on the glass tabletop. I’m surrounded by slobs!)
You might assume, with an assortment of scribing instruments such as this, that they were producing reams and reams of research, journal entries of historical significance, eloquent letters to loved ones, sketches of poignant beauty, and erudite and uplifting homilies.
You would be wrong. Around here, it is all shopping lists and doodling, with the occasional foray into bill-paying or word-puzzle doing. You can be sure that, with a little help from me, pocket clips will snap off, erasers will dry out, leads will jam in mechanical pencils, and refills will become unavailable for favorite brands.
A friend at work shared some garden roses with the human female. You can see that they are ashamed to be here.
More advertisements. This one, from a purveyor of lingerie and swimwear, came with a sheet of little stickers. They’re on stiffish rather than flexible paper, which makes them easy to handle. Sigyn thinks the pineapple is cute. (At least it’s not pink.)
Augh! Get it off! Get it off!
Though it does concisely express my level of approval for the human female’s housekeeping skills.