I was having the discussion with a friend at work, and said “If you know how many guns you own, you’re not a gun crank.” and I proceeded to run through a list of my collection.

Smug in my competence, until I came home, and remembered the SKS and the other 22 auto are at the nephews, and the single shot shotgun in the shed, and the little 22 revolver in the basement. Still, it only took me a little while to remember.

And then I unlocked the hall closet door. Ashamed, I re-locked it.

And then I opened the dresser drawer and pulled out some underwear. I forgot the damned Iver Johnson revolvers.

Damn. I’m a gun crank. A real one.