Those perfectly random objects of random randomness

When it comes to the physical things that surround me in my life, they can mostly be classified under the following headings:

• edible
• inedible
• to throw
• to read and throw
• to wash
• to wear
• to water and feed till it earns a living and then gives me things I can put into the above mentioned categories

But there are those things which have no category.  That screw that you swear fell out of a bookshelf.  That ball bearing that appeared in between your toes when you woke up in the morning.  That plastic thingiddyflibbit that looks so familiar but bears no resemblance to anything immediately memorable.  That violently luminescent green cap thing that looks like it fell out of the womb of something made in China.  Those weird miniature screwdrivers...that aren't phillip nor screw...just random tools of cryptic uselessness.

All these bizarre little obects of randomness that surround me in my chaotic home of family and things edible and inedible then all go into a cup, a bowl, a box of some sort - to collect dust and take up space, till I decide to throw things out - and they all stare back at me like orphans of refuse; the happenstance victims of bad engineering...or child manhandling and I question again whether I should throw them out.  And I don't.  For months.  For years sometimes.  And then the day comes.  The day that I finally throw all the bizarre little jigsaw pieces to things I can't find, out.

And suddenly, some link in the space time continuum of all the garbage and toys, idle fripperies and junk in my home seems to shift slightly.  Other larger, seemingly useless pieces of technology or function suddenly come into view.  And on trying to use them, switch them on, make them bake or obey a radio frequency on a dusty remote, the larger pieces of junk in my house go into stasis; they revolt. 

And that's because I just threw away all the random pieces of flibbidygibbit that made them dance.

I hate random things.  They make me keep them, throw them away and then regret throwing them away.  I should just stop buying so much junk I think.  I will be happier in the long run.  And bereft of tiny little boxes of random things that have no obvious use for anything at all.  Life is so cyclically and ironically unfunny sometimes.