A Small Fetish

I have a fascination with buttons. Buttons in a jar. Just love 'em. Don't know why. I'm not much of a collecting type person (although you might think my real fetish was for dust if you saw my house), but if I were, I would have row upon row of shelves filled with buttons in mason jars.

I found a small cache this morning in an old sewing basket. It's funny what gets mixed in with button collections. Other button sized things. A bullet. An old token. Jetsam and flotsam.

I've collected other things for no good reason. Egg shells. Paper trash. These were recycling projects gone awry, actually. I don't know how to recycle without becoming a hoarder.

I am ashamed of my little collecting manias. Then, of course, I see someone on television or in the paper who went whole hog on their toothpick or eraser collection, and now it's worth millions.

Just think, I could have a fortune in eggshells, if only I would have persevered.