Portrait of a Junk Drawer

As a kid I once opened the wrong drawer at a friend’s house. Instead of the spoons her mother had asked for, I found a broken ruler, chewed pencils, and a padlock splattered with paint.

“Junk drawer,” the mom said. “Everybody’s got one.”

What a relief. We had a drawer at home that held hair bands, restaurant matches, and inkless pens. I’d assumed this was our family’s particular shame. Learning that other people suffered the junk-sickness was comforting, but still, I wanted better for myself. W...