Dice Make Me Weird
I love dice. See if you can spot the most expensive set in the photo: They're the stainless steel, 3d-printed dice designed by Chuck Stover. I was lusting over those shiny things for more than a year. I'm good, so I bought them for myself.
Have you noticed that each dice set has its own character? They have a history, e.g., the two-toned set was a gift from my friend, April, so they carry that feeling of having been bestowed upon me, and I feel that it's her fault when they don't roll my way. Dice all reveal themselves over time to be either lucky or unlucky or fair, e.g. the green and gold dice, which are my fallback for when the other dice inevitably turn mean. And finally, they relate closely to my current D&D character, Elfonso, in their colors, fonts, and (in one particular case) their fruitiness.
Over time, all the associations I make with my dice creates a certain magic. I guess they've made me a superstitious person. The black and gold dice once brought my Elfonso to the brink of death, and I'm wary of some possible hex on them now. I keep the sets in a hand-crocheted bag that I've decorated with pins and beads, and I hang them on the wall in reverence when not in use. Dice are making me weird.