Our artists use their pencils down to the nubs. Once or twice a year I clean out the pencil and pen drawer tossing the ones that are no longer usable. My brain actually likes this kind of work. It's a nice respite from the type of cleaning I don't like. (ie. figuring out places for the things that don't have one and have cluttered whatever space they are occupying.)
I am trying to peacefully let go of the pangs of guilt I have tossing these pencil nubs. If I were some crafty maven I bet I'd find some use for them. Back in the day I used to keep junk like this, bagging it and stuffing into a corner somewhere. "Some day I will find a use for this," is what I used to say to myself. A mutation of childhood memories of my mom shunning waste of any sort. My mom who came of age in post-war Japan.
There is also my attraction (because of this mutated belief system?...maybe, I'd never thought of it that way...) to things/ways of "old".
Back to our quiet cleaning Sunday.
Peace and love.
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