Oh, they're paper weights!

Even IT guys need paperweights.

My Father in law bought for me a small set of replica Civil War firearms last January. They have remained in their packaging since then and have been sitting awkwardly at the base of the tree in my office between my Father's day 2008 mug and boxing Kangaroo. I just didn't know where else to put them.

I was getting tired of the papers on my desk shuffling around when the AC kicks on or a car drives by, and found myself wishing for an old fashioned paperweight. I looked over at the corner of the room, saw the replica guns, and felt like an idiot.

Of course they're paper weights, what other purpose could copper replica firearms possibly serve?

Growing up in my Grandmother's real estate office I remember looking at her desk, which was usually covered in contracts and maps of all shapes and sizes. She had a large blue swirled glass paperweight that I would sneak away from her desk every chance I got. I didn't want to play with it, I just wanted to look at it. I can still remember how fascinating the thing was. It was the weight of it that grabbed me, like I was holding a planet.

Funny how things like that stick around in the back of the mind, surfacing as they please. It's like my brain tagged the memory of that paperweight with the words Paper, Weight, Paperweight, Scattered Paper, Messy Desk, and recalled the memory because I came across one of those phrases in my adult professional life. I was fascinated by an inanimate object, and annoyed my Grandmother many times by removing it from her desk when I was barely old enough to look over the edge of her desk.

That was 25 years ago, maybe more, and I haven't recalled those memories once. But sitting here on a quiet Tuesday afternoon a long dormant synapse was called on, so it woke up and fired off that memory, reminding me that it is still there, physically stored in my brain (if a little dusty) and I can think back on it any time I want.

I miss that paperweight.