Receptacle for Unknown Widgets
Don't call it a junk drawer
Consider the following scenario.
Working in our shop, home, or office, we come across a little thingy (for lack of a better description) that seems out of place. We pick it up and momentarily consider what it might possibly be. The item looks familiar, but we cannot make sense of it. So we set it aside, unsure but confident it has a purpose.
Days, months, or even years go by until one day comes when it hits us - we know what that is and where it goes! Now searching, we look for the object that again has a name and a rightful place to be. But we cannot locate it. This once-unknown widget is nowhere to be found, now forever lost in the detritus of our lives.
Sound familiar? I venture to guess this has happened to most of us at least once or twice. For me, it's a frequent occurrence.
With all the tools and devices in my shop, I often come across small objects that undoubtedly belong somewhere, those small ancillary parts that seem to fall off larger items at will - and without us at first noticing. Usually, when we encounter these things, they only look vaguely familiar. But they are essential - we know it.
Perhaps it's a rubber pad that's fallen off a tool. Or a random specialized screw that belongs on something. But where did it come from?
Clueless, we stash the widget away.
Formerly, I'd set such items aside on a cluttered shelf or in a drawer with other miscellanies. But given enough time (or the occasional deep cleaning), these items disappear, or are regrettably discarded. Only then am I reminded of where the thing once belonged. But it is too late now. And I must choose between the unenviable tasks of doing without, crafting a suitable alternative, or tracking down a replacement. All of which can be easier said than done.
Two items in my recent maker past succumbed to this frustrating narrative: a filter for my portable air compressor and a silicone valve for my respirator. I describe these by name now, but at the time, I had no idea what the parts were.
The filter I first found during a move several years ago. It was about the diameter of a quarter, and as these stories often go, it looked essential but serving as what I did not know. Busy packing for the move, I stashed it away somewhere I wouldn't forget, but of course, I did forget.
And it wasn't until years later that I figured out what it was.
That small portable compressor it belonged to went unused for a long time, so I never noticed. But I acquired a new airbrush and decided to bring out the compressor to use with it. The airbrush needed clean, dry air to function optimally, so I did a once-over on the old compressor to ensure it was tip-top. That's when I realized what that little felt and plastic disk was - the filter to my compressor! I had no idea where the original went, so I had to order a new one.
It wasn't a big deal; these things are replaceable and occasionally need changing. But still. I once had a perfectly good one but lost it. Perhaps it will turn up again one day, but I have my doubts.
The valve is a bit more frustrating story.
This weird little object materialized one day in the shop, an odd pale blue circle of rubber lying conspicuously on the floor. Curious, I picked it up and examined it. The thing certainly had a purpose, but it looked out of place. The item reminded me of something from my lab days, perhaps part of a medical device, but not possibly something from my shop. Or could it be? Partially disgusted, I imagined tracking it in by accident, a biohazardous piece of medical waste. Still, I set it aside. And then went to wash my hands.
This finding happened not long before a round of shop cleaning, and upon coming across the small circle again as I tidied up, I decided it was insignificant (plus possibly contaminated) and discarded it. Not long after, I donned my respirator to do some painting when it hit me - as clear as the whiff of paint fumes seeping into my malfunctioning respirator.
Immediately I knew what that little disk was, and I took off the mask to look inside. To my horror, peering into the mouth of the respirator, I saw a now-familiar little silicone circle on one side and an empty void on the other.
"That's what it was!" I exclaimed out loud.
But the piece was now long gone. And I was forced not to buy a replacement valve - 3M doesn't make these parts available. Instead, I had to purchase a brand-new mask at a considerable expense. And with a high degree of consternation.
never again, I vowed.
My solution: the Receptacle for Unknown Widgets (RUW).
Before you say you already have one of these, hear me out. This is not a junk drawer. The RUW is far more purposeful than that. It is reserved solely for those mysterious trinkets that must - without fail - have a place.
I do have a junk drawer. Several, actually. But in my household, junk drawers are places for all the randomness in our home. That's the definition of a junk drawer, right?
And in our house, with a couple of crafty makers, anything in the junk drawer is fair game for the taking. My son, in particular, loves raiding it for items to create with. And he's completely allowed. So throwing the aforementioned unknown widgets in there is a surefire way to ensure they never return to their rightful standing.
Instead, the RUW is completely off-limits until the day comes when a deposited object is identified and reunited with its intended purpose. And nothing else goes in there.
This is an exclusive club, the RUW, a lost and found for only the most worthy of perplexing finds.
The RUW worked exceptionally well for me just a couple of weeks ago.
I had come across another odd-looking silicone piece, this time more like a rubber foot for something. I thought it might be a part of an oscilloscope probe, so I compared it to these, but I was wrong. Unsure, I placed it in the RUW and went on about my work.
It turns out it was the cover to a push button switch I had disassembled to alter, part of a compact (and expensive) light assembly. And without it, I could not finish the build I was working on. Thankfully I knew where it was, and I retrieved it from the RUW and completed my project. The disaster was averted this time, thanks to the RUW.
It's funny that, in hindsight, how obvious what all of these seemingly random items are. But engrossed in the moment, distracted by the job at hand, my mind doesn't always connect the dots. If yours does, lucky for you. Me? I am an absent-minded type of guy. So I've learned over the years to compensate for my shortcomings by using reminders, workarounds, and little aids like the RUW. And when the time is right, and that lightbulb again comes on, illuminating the cobwebbed recesses of my mind, I now know where to retrieve that little thingy I once thought a mystery.
And I put it right back where it belongs.
The Receptacle for Unknown Widgets. Don't call it a junk drawer. It’s far more consequential than that.
Until next time.
JRC