This ashtray sat on the end table in our family room throughout my entire happy childhood. The family room is part of my soul. My parents didn't smoke, so this item usually just held this and that - usually gum.
Getting rid of it is making me cry. I'm not joking.
I have nowhere to put it - other than in my now-empty top drawer of my dresser. Which doesn't exactly seem like a healthy location, since this process is NOT about hiding stuff; it's about looking at it. M3I doesn't want it around because it's an ashtray.