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Hewn from an oak it frames a charlatan fire that looks the part but feigns heat and uses gas like a leak. Our lives sit upon it, the odds and ends of our daily comings and goings. Pocket ammunition that we keep close at hand in the outside world, quickly drawn in times of need, modern day gunfighter's irons. Yet they are dumped unceremoniously when we reach the sanctuary of home. They become unnecessary discomfort that dig in limbs and posteriors when claiming blessed leisure time. Yet heaven forbid we step into the breach without our wallets and watches, phones and keys, glasses and pens, it leaves us feeling more naked than an emperor's vanity. So I keep them in view, forever prompting My memory, and annoying my spouse with blatant disregard for the in-house rules of tidiness and order. |