Today I am Writing: On Pens

In that space of time where my eyes open wide, I begin to notice:

There are pens, everywhere I tend to spend time.

Multiples of them.

On the table, there are three, at all angles, caps hanging off the backs.

On my desk, there are four, at all angles, caps hanging off the backs.

On the kitchen counter there is one, and on the little set of drawers just outside the bathroom door, another.

In the basket by the bed there are two, in the basket by the chair there are three, laying on the table next to the chair there are an un-counted more (right there on top of the books), and then there is one, laying on the bookshelf just on the other side. On top of the piano lies another (and I will spare you the count of splayed out pencils).

I grab my bag and go to work. The pens stick out of all the pockets, they roll along the bottom. I arrive in my office and there I see four, scattered along my U-shaped desk in strategic points, ready for whenever my hand steps out to reach.

I have come to a grand conclusion then:
I both have and use a lot of pens.