When I moved my office from its existing little space it shared with the kitty litter boxes into a bedroom, my wife helped me set it up. In a very short period of time, it looked so much like the apartment I had before we married that I was calling it by the name of the complex – the Pinegate Room. It was a little weird, but the extra space was great and I like things that have a good story behind them, so all was well.
For a while.
And then I noticed a curious thing. Everything I bought somehow ended up in that room. Everything. If I tried to move an item to my bedroom, for example, a few days later it would show up in the Pinegate room. A bag of potato chips would teleport itself from the pantry to the Pinegate room. Hallmark Star Trek ornament? Pinegate room.
I wonder how many “man caves” are actually this. A place where we – and all traces that we exist – are hidden away from visitors.
And yet, it all sounds so innocent and inviting at the beginning. The best traps are like that.