Everyone has there little”addictions.” I don’t mean the kind of addiction that I usually write about here.  I mean, those little things in life that you love to have or collect.  The things that make you happy for no particular reason.  I am not talking about anything big and expensive.  Nothing extravagant.  I for one have my coffee cup collection and my shot glass collection. (Donations gladly accepted, by the way!) But again, that is not what I am talking about here, either.

I am talking about pens.  I LOVE pens.  I know!  I know!  It is strange.  But finding a new pen that “clicks” with me (pun intended) makes me happy.  I go through cycles where my favorite pen changes.  One time it was this one and then it was this one (which, by the way I have in black, blue and purple). 

The down side to all of this is that I keep losing the little fuckers.  Well, that and my spawn keep stealing them.  I have had to sneak into their bedrooms late at night while they are sleeping to rummage through their backpacks to recover my stolen PEN!  Being the good mom that I am, I always left a note saying, “HA!  Caught you stealing my pen, ya little thief!” You just don’t steal my pens.  I don’t care who you are!  I am thinking of rubbing permanent invisible ink all over my pens to catch the little thieves.  Of course, that would most likely end with me walking around with permanent ink all over my hands, face, hair and cleavage (because we all know how I use my cleavage to store things.) Try explaining that one!

And when I go to the doctor’s office?  You know that pen holder that has all of those delicious pens that were given to them as free sample advertising?  It takes every bit of will power I have to not go from Normal (ahem) Suburban Woman to Raging Pen Lusting Kleptomaniac.  I’ll even make awkward little jokes when I use them saying things like, “Oops I almost put your pen in my purse.  *awkward giggle*” Which is when I pause hoping they say something like, “Sure!  You can have it.” They never do.  Bitches.

Oh, and recently I got this brand new green Google (Woman!) pen.  I loved my Google (Woman!) pen.  Apparently so did my spawn children.  The “borrowed” it when I wasn’t paying attention.  Know what they did?  The freakin’ BROKE IT.  They broke my brand new pen-a-licious Google (Woman!) pen.  And they KNEW they broke it.  They hid it from me and watched as I searched the whole damn house for it.  I was seriously tearing my house apart mumbling to myself about finding that pen or die trying.  When I finally gave up and sat at my desk to weep, I looked down on the floor and saw it.  Right there.  At my feet.  Oh hell no, I did NOT overlook it.  They planted it.  Right at my feet.  BROKEN.

I plan on seeking revenge on them.  Ice cold water to wake them up, perhaps.  Shaving cream all over their faces as they sleep.  Something.  I have enough issues without my children gaslighting me. 

Don’t jack with my pens.  Just.  Don’t.

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