You have to admit, there are worse things to obsess over. I have five smoke detectors in my studio apartment. Sure, the main reason is so I can change the batteries once a month. But fire safety is a side benefit. Of course the batteries are still good after four weeks. I don’t pitch ‘em. I use them like Legos to build little houses, horses, cars…. You should see my dragon. Creativity. Yet another side benefit.

Why batteries? Put one in the palm of your hand. Doesn’t matter if it’s an AA, C, AAA, or 9-volt. See how it catches the light, how the colors complement each other like newlyweds. I know, I know…complement compliment. Not important. I want you to feel how balanced that perfect package of pure portable energy is. Touch the battery to your cheek. Cool, smooth. Press the tip of your tongue to the contacts, positive and negative, yin and yang. I’ve often wondered how they taste on the inside. TBD.

Speaking of taste, I have an on-again, off-again girlfriend. I thought she had good taste. She was taken aback by my battery collection but said there were worse things. (See?) Last week, she suggested we get matching tattoos. Butterflies. I said I’d have to think about it. Why would I want something flighty inked on my skin when I could have something with staying power?

I got a tattoo anyway. A 9-volt, my favorite. A place I can’t show you. Hurt bad but it’s where I really need the power. You wonder why 9-volts are my favorite? It’s because they’re the only batteries with both poles on the same end. Except car batteries of course. I don’t go anywhere near those beasts.

If you’re lucky enough to have a flashlight battery (a D not a wannabe C), roll it across the floor. Let it roll, baby, roll. Straight and true. I’ve built a small ramp and race my collection of Ds. I stand my AAs and AAAs like fans with their kids cheering their favorites. Happy families — mainly. See that one next to the one lying down? That’s my step-dad standing over my mom. And that disc battery? That’s me trying to make myself as small as I can. Sometimes I … never mind.

So where was I? Ah, yes, cheering at the battery races. And speaking of cheering, a big BOOOOOO to all those phones and plug-in devices. Sure, there are batteries lurking in there somewhere. But something that hides like they do? I don’t trust ‘em.

I’ll let you in on a secret nobody knows. I sleep with batteries. Scores from head to toe. And, always, the disc battery safely under my pillow.

My girlfriend called and asked if she could come over. I invited her for dinner, said I’d make vegetable lasagna. As we ate, she said she'd looked up battery tattoos online and found some of them to be not awful. She said if I insisted, she’d get one. I told her I didn’t want her to do something she’d rather not. She squeezed my hand, and we kissed. I asked her to spend the night. We’d never done that before because, you know — bed-ful of batteries. I decided it was now or never and pulled back the covers. She asked if I’d be willing to put them under the bed. I told her I wasn’t ready for that. She suggested I start with half. That would leave enough room for us. I agreed. She said maybe at some point it could be just her and me. I think she’s right except for the disc. I think that one will always need to be under my pillow. Guess time will tell.