Every 10 or 15 years, some type of compulsion sweeps over me, and I dive into the unknown via some spot in the house that holds forgotten treasures. These pockets of denial are, for the most part, in plain sight, yet hidden away.

This time it was a drawer in a piece of furniture in the dining room. Each time I’d open this drawer it was full, yet I had no idea what was filling it. Slightly frustrated because it wouldn’t hold any more things that I wanted to keep for no apparent reason, I decided it was time to do something.

(0) comments

Welcome to the discussion.

Keep it Clean. Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexually-oriented language.
PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAPS LOCK.
Don't Threaten. Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated.
Be Truthful. Don't knowingly lie about anyone or anything.
Be Nice. No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading to another person.
Be Proactive. Use the 'Report' link on each comment to let us know of abusive posts.
Share with Us. We'd love to hear eyewitness accounts, the history behind an article.