It made me so happy to have them in my hand, these little pieces of ephemera from my life, tucked into my bag at some point for safe keeping. So representative of what rests on the ledge by where I sit most every evening. An example of what is in all those little pots around the place where stuff shifted on in some effort at tidying rests, holding pens before being returned to proper homes. Samples of some of the prettier detritus at the edges of the room with the cat fur and other scraps of life waiting to be swept up.
Holding them in my hand I felt more like me and I thought about how some of the smallest, seemingly inconsequential, things I leave in trails behind me say the most about me. I think this may just be an elaborate justification of not needing to do any tidying up today, but I'll leave it there and go and deal with some of the detritus in the kitchen. That's one area I find it hard to feel charmed by the leavings!