I love almost every object in my house. From my microphone to my switch blade, the plates I eat off of, the art I hang on the walls, my tobacco tamper I use, my ash tray, my old scissors, the list goes on and on.

There is one thing in my house that I hate.

I was playing with Roby on the bed and she was picking up anything she could get. A little silicon hammer, a rubber Giraffe, my phone. When she picked up my phone and held with both hands up to her face I was filled with revulsion, utter revulsion and horror. She wasn’t using it, the screen was black, but the mere notion was disgusting to me.

It seems likely that I shoul work hard to keep anything I abhor out of my house. That has always been the case, but it’s doubly so now that Roby’s around.

Phone’s are evil, I think we all know that.