1 crowbone 1 week ago I've always hid my guitars in the open.Never had to ask permission to get one, and over the years I've acquired...umm...many.So, imagine my surprise when my wife went into my office to scare off some raccoons that she thought were up there, only to find that she couldn't see the walls, windows, or most of the ceiling!Granted, it's a small office, and not a collection that could even hope to compare to Cbell's, but deals pop up every now and again, and I've got no issue in trading, bartering, buying or selling to get what I want.I started small, believe me.Just a guitar, here or there. Friday night jams, meet someone who is parting ways with their electric instruments, longing for acoustics, and they sell it as a used guitar, my favorite kind of guitar, because it's not vintage.Soon, though, word gets out that you're into guitars, and I was having people give, that's right, give me guitars. Not that old Stromberg that's rotting in the attic yet, but a '59 Kay Jumbo from the original owner, and a pretty cherry Yamaha 12-String from the early 70's which plays and sounds better than my '68 Martin Slothead.The electrician that wanted to see what he could get for his '45 Epi Broadway, which needed major work, came to me with it.Then, the wife finds all this(at least the stuff that in the office).Not mad, just sort of startled, I guess, at the sheer volume occupied since the last time she dared entered my domain. She said last night "Wow, you got a lot of gear upstairs".I braced, like a kid does just before he gets spanked, thinking "Oh, snap, here it comes", but it never came. I almost felt like Ralphie in the Christmas Story after he gets his BB gun.Luckily, I was on my way out the door when this conversation took place, so the door was already open as my best friend from high school pulled up to take me to see Roky Erickson. Whew!