salami was originally made from donkeys who had outlived their usefulness

I’m Sure This is a Metaphor, Part I: Where None Dare to Go

The human female is still on her cleaning and organizing kick. We all know it won’t last, but it’s amusing to watch her try to assemble order out of chaos.

chaos (noun): lack of order or intelligent design

What’s her latest project? I will give you a hint. It is roughly the same size as a breadbox, and it is so terrifying that the human male will, on principle, do without something rather than approach the Maw Which Swallows All Things to seek it.

Of what do I speak? Gird your loins. We’re going in…

The junk drawer under the toaster. All hope abandon, ye who enter.

Great Frigga’s hairpins! What a mess! This is what happens when you don’t have a pocket dimension to store odd bits and bobs in. Random objects, big and small, just get chucked in here, willy-nilly. (Mostly nilly). They sit in there for an indeterminate amount of time. A month? A year? A decade? Who knows! Sorting this lot out is not going to be quick. We may be here all week.

I mean, first we have to figure out just what all of this cr@p is. These two plastic bits: Want to take a guess?

If memory serves, the gray thingy used to be part of the dishwasher. I seem to recall posting about how I loosened this and it came off and then there was nothing stopping the top rack from sliding all the way out of the machine… Probably, but I can’t be arsed to go back through the archive and find the post. I just remember that the human female tried bending the track the rack wheels run in to keep this part in place, but no go. Why she’s hung onto it when it can’t be put back in I have no idea.

But what’s the black thing? It has a hole, so obviously it’s supposed to go over something… And it’s rubbery, so it goes over something quietly and…grippily. Again, no idea.

Go ahead and dispose of them, woman. (And I’ll be sure to see that you remember what they’re for and how important they are after the trash has been picked up…)

Ah, keys.

There is an actual written Midgardian law that all junk drawers must contain at least one key for which the use is unknown. The same law stipulates that such a key may not be discarded, under penalty of prosecution. Probably dates back to some Medieval locksmith’s guild or something. In any case, the humans are in double compliance, because the purpose of only one of these is known with any certainty. The thing that looks like a baby’s-nose-cleaning-syringe is for adjusting the programmable thermostat manually. I’m not sure why it’s needed, since one can just poke it or control it via smartphone. I, of course, can just brush it with a wisp of magic whenever I want to make the humans too hot or too cold. The wedge-shaped key might go to the freezer in the garage. Or it might not. The magnetic one? Pffft. Nobody knows.

Now, these, I recognize!

They’re for putting holes in things, making confetti, and removing the peppercorns from Genoa salami slices. They make a satisfying bloingy noise when used, and I love to make it so that the little covers that are supposed to keep the punch dots contained always come off at inopportune times and scatter paper bits everywhere. Now, why the humans have two of them is anyone’s guess. Perhaps they each had one before they were wed? Clearly this one on the left is superior because it has this extra, useless finger loop thingy.

Two hole punches might be understandable, but what is with three partial bottles of technical pen ink?

Why three? Why start a new bottle when the old bottle(s) aren’t finished? Why aren’t these with the technical pens? Why do they have different product numbers? How ancient are these, anyway? I have questions, people, questions.

Whew! We’ve only just begun and I already want a break. I shall close with the following:

Which of these statements is/are true? Answers in the tags.

  • Salami was originally made from–are you ready for this?–donkeys
  • Waterproof ink is made with bug juice
  • The first recorded record for a paper hole puncher was published in 1889, when a man named Benjamin Smith helped create spring-loaded hole puncher that had a receptacle to collect those little clips.
  • The humans’ freezer was once burgled. The thieves stole ice cream, pizza, and all manner of meats. They left a trail of roasts and chops in the shrubbery as they fled.

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