|Every key I found in my kitchen what-not drawer.|
This is such a common human frailty it must be psychologically significant. Fear of being locked in? Fear of being locked out? I simply thought I was tidying up when I pulled this mass of metal out of the drawer next to my stove, but once I'd done it I couldn't bring myself to throw any of them away. In fact, the bowl is still sitting on my counter (so much for tidying up).
For me it's a question of physics as much as metaphysics: Keys are so much more substantial in my hand than a ticket stub or a rubber band that I can't cavalierly toss them out. Weight equals value, at least in my domain.
So I'm thinking I'll relocate these keys to the basement where they can join the cans of nuts and bolts we inherited when we bought this house. Eventually, I might have a critical mass of metal worth salvaging.