I discovered this morning that I have apparently lost my comb. It’s a trivial thing to lose, but I’ve had that particular comb, a simple red plastic pocket comb, for as long as I can remember, a pretty sizeable fraction of my life. And I get kind of attached to my stuff.
I’m pretty sure I must’ve lost it at the grocery store last night; I know it was in my pocket next to my wallet, and sometimes it got caught up in there, and I imagine it must’ve fallen out when I took out my wallet to pay. Or something like that.
Anyway, I just got back from a trip to another, nearer grocery store to buy a new one for $1.49. This one’s black and more angular than my old one. Hmph. I miss my old comb.
Speaking of my stuff, and speaking of stuff made of black plastic, I’ve realized that the problem with the printer/scanner/copier I bought the other day is that, well, it’s made of black plastic. It’s this big black box taking up space, and I find it kind of depressing to look at. I’m tempted to take a cue from Michael Okuda and get some kind of brightly colored tape to decorate it with.