Wednesday, 18 February 2015


I like pens. Pens and pencils are natural parts of me. When I hold a good pen, it becomes part of me.
Never lend me a pen. I do not mean to steal it but I will leave with it. It is now my pen and I have completely forgotten that it used to be your pen.
Who cares, it is just a pen, right? And now it is my pen.

After many years travelling for work, visiting offices, konference centers and places filled with books an papers I have aquired an unnatural amount of pens.
I do not collect pens and I do not need hundreds of pens. I can not just throw them out so a few years back, I started an ambitious pen-clearing project.
All pens were collected from bags and around the house. I never counted them but I did sort them.
The really awful pens that I did not like at all where kept apart. The nice pens where placed in ghe "office-material" box, then still not a box as it is now, but half a book case.
A normal amount of the awful pens where then placed available in bags and around the house.
The joy of using them up brightened my day. I could then go an shop for a new pen among the nicer ones in the office box.

As of 2015, I still have a stupid amount of pens. But today I finished an especially viscious one and could finally throw it out. It has brightened my day considerably.

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