I have sickness.
That sentence seems very unsettling, but I don’t mean it to be. My sickness is that I collect things. I have been collecting them for years. When I was little I collected tea sets and porcelain dolls, especially Indian dolls. I would still be collecting them but I ran out of room and right now those precious treasures from my childhood are packed away nice and neatly in boxes in my bedroom at my parents’ house. As I’ve aged, my collections have changed.
These days I’m into trunks and old boxes of that nature and notebooks. I have a trunk full of notebooks that are so pretty and wonderful and are waiting to be filled with great, important thoughts. I suppose that is why they are still blank and in my trunk. But I’ve been collecting notebooks for the past three or so years.
Another thing that you could consider a collection of sickness is my kitchen gadgets. I love gadgets. I get them saying I could use that when I do this kitchen project. Or in case I ever need something that size for dough cutting, etc., etc. I can come up with any real and awesome excuse to buy a kitchen gadget.
For a while now I’ve wanted to expand that sickness of collections to other things. Sunday I finally did.
I bought a typewriter.
It is a wonderful beautiful typewriter.
Along with the typewriter I also bought some new kitchen gadgets. I know I didn’t really need any of the purchases, but that is why I say it is a sickness, not a collection.
I do love the sickness though.
I can’t wait to get another typewriter. Also I can’t wait to figure out how to make it a part of my life. You know how to display it, make it pretty and keep it safe from the destructive boys in my life.
Well, that is all.