When I was a kid, my dad developed the habit of bringing me beer mugs as he went on business trips. (That didn’t seem the least bit odd, at the time.) Eventually, I picked up the habit of buying beer mugs on trips of my own. At its peak, my collection numbered over 100. I displayed many of them in bookcases. I washed them once or twice a year.
Decades ago, decades after the habit started, I got rid of most of them. I kept a few mostly for their beauty and potential value (doubtful). I know where a couple of these originated. Here are a few.