One of our guest bedrooms has a closet in which I store a dozen or so copies of many of my books in case I get an order that I have to fulfill (signed copy, or something not readily available on Amazon, etc.). It’s packed, since even ten copies of most of my books gets into the hundreds.
One of my son’s friends was with us over the holidays and she moved to stow her stuff in that closet.
“Not that closet,” my son said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because that closet pays for the entire house.”