I collect books. I have around a couple of thousand or so. Actually I'm probably more of a packrat but "Collector" sounds more sophisticated. I call my almost forty years of National Geographics as a collection. Fran merely calls them a stack of old magazines and is always wanting them thrown out. Matter of fact, she'd be thrilled if I would get rid of all my books. I tell her my stuff provides me with many memories. She says my stuff provides her with many nightmares.
Fran used to collect coffee mugs. Then she began collecting cat themed teapots.
Do you have any idea how many coffee mugs are in boxes in the basement? I could easily furnish enough for ten restaurants. There are twenty-five tea pots now lining the tops of our cabinets in the kitchen, all but a couple from her niece Adelaide in Staten Island. There are a dozen more in the basement! Mark these words; one of these days I'm going to break my neck cleaning the darned things!
And she hollers about all my books! Some nerve, that woman has!