Actually, I sold three...  so I could buy another one.  What of it?

This is the feed trough where all the electronics in my house come to chow down.  The gang includes an mp3 player, a GPSr, a cordless drill, a 1,000,000 candlepower spotlight, a cell phone, three cordless razors (two of which are pictured; apparently I was shaving when I took this picture), and a three battery chargers (only two are pictured) for everything else (e.g., another GPSr, three digicams, clippers, more flashlights, etc.). 

There's a fire extinguisher just around the corner from here.

Yes, I do go exploring a lot.  No, I don't need that many flashlights.  Actually, I think were are a couple more in the car including another one of those yellow ones.  You'll probably want to stop off here when Armageddon hits.

Personally, I interpret it as a sign of a healthy sex life that Dani has not gone through all of these yet.

I don't think I've ever even built this many things in my entire life.

Note that the multi-tool at the top has every size represented among the others... and yet I stil have all the rest of them.

Dani likes shoes.  A lot. 

Really, her feet aren't beautiful enough to warrant this kind of attention nor ugly enough to demand this sort of coverage.

I stopped counting at three dozen.  There were more (including a pair on her feet), but it was too depressing to go on.

Curiously, I don't think we have too much blue paint.

We have too many laundry baskets as well.  No, wait.  Maybe we don't.  There are four or five of them, but they're always full.  Here the problem isn't too many baskets but rather too much laundry. 

Maybe it would help if I wore the same underwear two weeks in a row instead of the usual one week?

(Note: That's the old color the room used to be.  Actually, it was lavender.  You have no idea what that used to do to my sperm count.)

You can't even fit all Dani's socks and underwear in there when everything is clean.  This is precisely the opposite of the way it's supposed to work. 

Your underwear drawer is supposed to be the barometer of when you need to do laundry.  If it's empty, it's time to do a load.  Here we have a situation where we hold off of washing anything so we can actually close these drawers for a change.

This is only about a third of the collection...

Here's what happened to the rest of it.  I decided to make my own greenhouse gasses last winter with a little controlled fire instead of paying through the nose to run a space heater.

The doctors have given me about six months based on the amount of soot I cough up daily.

True story: Years ago I cleaned out Dani's desk and found seven (7!) (SEVEN!!! #%@$%@^!!!) rolls of Scotch tape. 

She bought all of these before the car accident, incidentally.  Did I mention that she works in an Alzheimer's facility?

Note that I have four deodorants and Dani has four deodorants.  Neither of us has any excuse.  Well, I used to keep one at work for days when I stayed late, but I've since brought it home where three more were waiting for it.  There just aren't enough armpits to go around, so I'm going to have to get creative.  Maybe I can wax my own dental floss in the stuff?  Hey, fresh breath too?  Yeah!

And then there are the five nose sprays.  We don't have that many nostrils under our roof.  Or do we?  Come here, Gus!

The five bottles of headache medicines are here just to help me get through this exposé.

No, the third one from the left isn't a vibrator.  I thought that too.

How the hell does anyone end up with three cans of WD40?  Okay, I can assume at least one of these belonged to Dani before we met and I brought another one.  Still, I can't ever recall emptying a single can of WD40 in my life, so why would I need to buy another?

Words fail.

All I can say is this would be Howard Hughs' wet dream.

Honestly, we aren't this accident prone.  I blame Dani's poor memory.  Apparently she picks one of these up every time she goes to the grocery.