This is a shelf in my medicine cabinet. I couldn’t tell you exactly when it became so, to put it politely, non-utiliariarian. It holds a postcard from a coffee shop that no longer exists, a postcard from a place I’ve never been, my everyday perfume, a couple of Escada perfume samples I rarely wear because they’re a bit heady for my daily life and, the newest edition, a box of worry dolls. The dolls, a gift from the last hotel I stayed in, are supposed to take away worry and allow peaceful dreams and came with instructions to transfer one worry into each doll before bedtime. Of course my first thought was I’m going to need a bigger box of dolls.