In my bedroom there are 32 picture frames. I just counted.

27 of them are silver.

21 of them are on my dresser / bureau. 4 of them hang on the walls, and the other 7 are scattered around the room, gathering dust on various surfaces.

My bedroom is not very big…about 14 by 7 feet. I just measured.

Hiding away in a drawer are about a dozen empty frames…all gilt edged, or gothic, Victorian or over-the-top…all silver, or at least mostly silver. (One of the empty frames is just so lovely to me that it sits, empty, yet visible to all who enter.)

Shiny, sparkling, looks like sterling silver silver, and deep, antique looking silver. Pewter?

I am obsessed.

I don’t know why I don’t take out those unused frames and fill them with pictures similar to those already gracing my walls and my tortured furniture…photos of my young daughter mostly.

I don’t know why I feel the need to purchase a new silver picture frame every time I leave the house…Target and Kohl’s my favorite haunts, while craft stores and Pier One Imports could literally be the death of me. (Since I would spend all of my money on picture frames and have barely enough left over for caffeine, gas, cigarettes and Ramen noodles. Which, incidentally, my daughter loves…)

I once came to the conclusion that I was not really bi-polar…instead diagnosing myself as obsessive-compulsive, ornate, silver picture frames my one big addiction.

It doesn’t matter what size they are…I can have a 1 inch square frame and put something quite eye-catching inside. Or just leave it empty, the frame enough of a decoration to my sore eyes. Give me a 16 by 20 and if I have nothing lying around I will no doubt take my daughter to Sears and have big pictures developed. (Do you have any idea how expensive that is?)

I meander thru Bed, Bath and Beyond, artlessly falling into their picture frame trap…there are so many…so beautifully displayed. I long for a five tiered frame that will hang from floor to ceiling. I happen to know that I would hang it up, whether I had photos to put in it, or not.

Once, for Christmas, I got one of those 3 sectioned picture holder things…I have no idea how to describe it to you…but I had nowhere to put it. It rests in storage, awaiting the day when I have a home of my own to put it in. And then I will be forced to buy brothers and sisters for it, so that it will not feel lonesome.

It could be that during my more manic phases, those times when my fingers itch to hand over small green pieces of paper with picture of dead presidents on them (that’s money, by the way), that I realize I cannot waste hundreds of dollars on everything I want…and so I settle for that one perfect frame. I go thru piles and stacks and layers of frames, sometimes cutting myself on carelessly broken glass, to find that one that will satisfy my urge.

It is so wonderful to find that I can now label one of my many obsessions…a collection.