Hardly a human exists that does not have some odd, irrational collection that in reality may be less of a collection and more of a habit.  Some rational collections are to be expected; like shelves full of beer.  Make Mine Potato wisely stated, “Collecting is the mark of obsession,” followed by proud photos of his beer cellar.  But what of those collections that are created and maintained without any coherent reason?

I am guilty.

On top of my refrigerator sits a bucket filled with bottle caps.  Immediately after opening a beer, I rush to the refrigerator and deposit the small metallic lid into the bucket.  I relish the soft clinking sound.  I look forward to my frequent deposits into this odd bank.

I do not know why I collect these caps.  There seems to be no purpose.  I often ask my wife, “What am I going to do with these things?” Make a bar top?  An end table?  A suit of armor?  Who knows?  Certainly not me.

At least twice a week I pull the bucket down and peer inside.  I love doing this.  I like to dig my hand into the colorful mixture.  With so many caps (hundreds?  thousands?) they feel more like sand than crimped pieces of round steel.  I enjoy the memories associated with each one.  The 3 Floyds cap reminds me of the standing in line with Mike in Munster, IN to purchase Dark Lord.  Any of the Rogue caps bring to mind the bottle of Morimoto Imperial Pilsner my wife got me for Christmas last year.  We were so broke at that time, beer was a luxury, and the Morimoto was loving treat!  The cap from my first home brew brings to light the feelings of trepidation I experienced as I pitched the yeast into my first batch of wort:  “Will this actually work?” I recall saying aloud.

Maybe that’s why I collect bottle caps (amongst many other beer paraphernalia).  I don’t have a problem remembering such great moments…just remembering to remember.  I guess my weird fixation is a great antidote for neglecting the warm and fuzzy moments of life.

What bizarre collecting behaviors do you find yourself victim to?