I once knew a gal who, out of love, ate her mattress. Brought the whole damn D-Luxe nail clipper set to bed. For her, bathroom surgery was pillow talk, hang nails were crumbs in bed - dig under and dig in. On the end table, she kept other things besides hang nails in jars. There were many jars, but only one low-watt bulb for lighting. Nocturnal…diurnal….I don’t remember which, or what work hours she kept. This was in Cincinnati… I know because I remember rust being scraped off machinery outside just as she shaved down her callous with an industrial-strength file and took another bite of fluff.
Folks will love all sorts of things, inanimate … in animate. By fighting against it, compulsion proves consciousness. We didn’t see The Invisible Man until the detective tackled him to the pavement. Now we see him in ourselves and in our pets.