Into the garbage they go. Off to the landfill for some future archaeologist.
They are little things I had stuck to the wall. They reminded me of a trip I took, and I thought they were interesting looking as well. I have no idea what the package says.
But I don’t need them. If I remember the trip, I remember it. If I don’t, well, that’s OK , too. There is a story in this, somewhere, but I have too much packing and loading to do. My landlady is greedy and evil, and I must get out of here as fast as I can, lest her contagion wreak its havoc on me.
The Meta-Bug 