Henry came into my office for a paperclip.
I pulled one out of my little magnetic desktop paperclip holder cup and, hanging onto Henry's paperclip, trying not to be seen, was a large, bent paperclip. Now, obviously I had bent this paperclip in the past to fish something out of somewhere, or poke through a tiny little hole, or to, well, who knows what.
Paperclips are handy little things that do a lot more than clip paper. They're very much like clothes hangers in that regard. What's puzzling me is why, whenever it was that I had bent this paperclip and put it to its bent-form-use-that-no-other-tool-could-accomplish-so-well, I then re-folded the paperclip up and stuck it back into the magnetic desktop paperclip holder cup.
It had served its purpose. I had gotten more than a paperclip's value out of it. Surely the next time I need a similar tool, I will be capable of re-bending another paperclip to the same purpose? Good-bye paperclip. Thank you for giving your life to the good. Go and clutter the landfills with your spent brethren.
What clutter do you keep in the silly hope that you'll find it convenient and economical to use again some day?