Fiction. Rocks in my Head

Rocks in my Head
Collecting rocks and pebbles has always been like a magnet to me, no matter which country or place, I am drawn by their fascinating form and colour. Quite often this has made me the centre of attraction as I admire and caress a newly discovered gem.
My passion for travel has taken me to many countries and always a large section of my luggage has been devoted to bringing home many little treasures.
As time went on my house became a look-alike for an archaeologist’s stockpile, firstly my garage was lined with many shelves, displaying selections of beautiful rocks of many colours, all logged and a short history of were they came from and what type of rock they were.
As my uncontrollable desire for their collection advanced, so was the shelving, expanded to the stage my car now had a permanent parking place in the driveway.
Double-sided freestanding shelves filled the shed and soon it became a laborious job of love, cleaning, admiring and reading about their history.
When not making an overseas adventure, expeditions into the hinterland satisfied my desire of collecting new rocks.
The time had arrived when the volume of the collection forced me to find more room, so out went the lovely pictures and paintings that graced the passage walls, and up went lines of shelving which were soon displaying hundreds of rocks of all shapes and sizes.
On and on the collection of new varieties soon had me looking for more space, eventually the bedrooms and lounge walls were transferred into shelving yet somehow there was always a stockpile waiting to be displayed.
Soon the house was bursting at the seams with every conceivable space being taken up with the ever-increasing supply of rocks and pebbles waiting to take their pride of place.
Next the back garden became a haven for my intoxicating hobby with a complete makeover. Larger species formed the surrounds for a pond and waterfall with smaller ones forming a base, while an interesting pathway lead to a prize collection of beautifully coloured stones featured by indiscrete lighting.
With the selection of flat stones there were soon pathways of rocks leading all around the gardens, plus the wooden fences were replaced with a carefully designed multicoloured walls.
Finally my labour of love alas came to an end with not a square mitre of clear space left in the house or garden, this put me in a state of deep depression, there just didn’t seem to be any future left for me.
The very next day I noticed an article in the newspaper for bookings to the moon, well now that would be a great cure, I could do a moon walk and pick up several samples and maybe buy a warehouse somewhere and start a new lunar collection… worth putting some thought into it.!