Let’s talk PBH


Learning more about black holes recently. Oh, not those big honkers in outer space. No, my lessons have been about those little personal black holes following us about, day-to-day. Put something down, turn your eyes away for a moment and FOOOFH—gone!

Our very own PBHs in action.

Recently I’ve come to understand two facts about mine:

  • It has limitations; the never-ending does have an ending.
  • It also has a mean streak. How long it hides something depends on how much I like it.

Take my Noodler’s Ahab Fountain pen. My PBH snaffooed onto it just over a year ago leaving me bereft. I fell in love with that pen the first time I held it and ever since it went missing I’ve been staring at the ink bottle and daydreaming of once more cradling that sweet resin body of yellow and red swirls between my fingers.

Then someone attempted to ease my misery by gifting me a Sheaffer Calligraphy pen. Oh my—nice pen; sleek black body, easy to hold, and a dream to write with. Let’s just say, even though it’s not my Noodler, Sheaffer and I have been having a light-hearted love affair.

Fast forward to the end of December and my discovery of a Cross fountain pen on sale at a crazy-after-Christmas-bargain price. I’ve always been curious about the Cross so I couldn’t not buy it.

Good thing I did because not long after the Sheaffer went missing.

The black hole had struck again.

Two pens now. . .

Two days ago the might little black glob of no-matter got greedy and this time my wallet disappears, forcing Man-wonder and I to tear our home and vehicle apart. He’s outside, I’m in. I’m halfway through the bedroom when ever so casually he saunters in patting his pocket.

”You are going to be so happy. Guess what I found.”

“My wallet?”

“Nope.” He says with his goofiest Man-Wonder smirk.

“Licorice?” I don’t ask too hopefully because I know I’d be tempted to eat it no matter the condition.

“Nope.” He says and with a Ta Da he pulls out the Noodler Ahab pen.

That was when I figured out about the black hole’s limitations. Swallowing up something chunky, like my wallet, meant it had to cough up something else to make room. In fact it not only coughed up the Ahab, it also hacked out the ever sleek Sheaffer.

I was grateful . . .sigh . . .until the Cross disappeared.


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