When I first saw it, I didn't really know what it was. The "thing" is about 3 feet square, a wire mesh contraption with more shape than substance. The thing has what looks like handles on the top and adjustable little parts on what I would call shelves.

I acquired the thing from a former tenant and didn't toss it because I didn't know what it was. It went into the corner of a closet in the guest bedroom. Time passed and one of the younger generation folks spotted the thing and identified it as a storage rack for compact disks. I own a grand total of nine compact disks. My collection is more appropriately housed in a shoebox, rather than on the likes of the thing.

Time passed. From the beginning, time and inertia have teamed up with junk to give accumulation roots and thus safe harbor. The thing grew roots - right there in the closet. Dust webs tied it to the floor. It settled in.

Not long ago I really needed the space in the closet where the thing was rooted. It took a lot of commotion and wrestling - some grunting and rearranging to get the thing out of the closet. It clearly didn't want to go. A few empty shirt boxes from shelves above jumped on me to defend the thing. They hardly nicked me. The boxes rated a "nice try" commendation for defending the thing - but I won in the end. The thing fought back, however, chipping a little paint on the woodwork as I hauled it down the corridor and out the back door.

I put the thing next to the trashcan at the roadside. I thought that was kind of me. I didn't jump on it and try to squash it and stuff it inside the trash container. I positioned it so that it was clearly visible to folks driving by. I gave the thing a fighting chance for a new life with someone else, someone either with an actual compact disk collection or a big closet with a little extra room.

I waited.

And then one day, it was gone. I was free of the thing. I didn't know its fate, I didn't care, really. We had parted company. And that was just fine.

Or so I thought, because ignorance, as they say, truly is bliss.

We have a guest staying with us this month. She is residing in the guest bedroom. And it turns out that her arrival coincided exactly with the moment of departure of the thing. Actually departure is the wrong term.

The thing caught the eye of our houseguest. She snagged it like a true treasure hunter with a keen eye. Perhaps she has a compact disk collection, a little extra closet space, or maybe, just maybe, curiosity got the best of her. Suffice it to say the thing jumped into the back seat of her car as she made the turn into our driveway. And, since she is staying with us for a month, rather than leave the thing in her car, she has brought it inside to - yes, you guessed it, the guest bedroom.

I've not looked, I cannot fathom the idea that the thing has returned to the very place in the closet from where I wrestled it out. But I have my suspicions.

I suppose it's only fair to tell our guest about the hat boxes ready to dive bomb her when she goes to make her departure. Given the determination of the thing to stay, I don't think this next time is going to be as easy as I had it.

I think things might get real ugly.