When I was growing up, there was a request from members of my family that sent shivers up my spine: "Go look in the junk drawer."
The junk drawer was a drawer in the kitchen, precariously close to the food prep area, if you ask me, that contained lots and lots and lots of junk. Need a thumb tack? Look in the junk drawer. Need a battery? Look in the junk drawer? Need some string? Check the junk drawer.
While other members of my family would dive right in, I would approach a junk drawer search as though the drawer was filled with deadly bacteria. Everything in the drawer was either black or brown or rusted. It looked like one big tetanus filled black hole to me.
One thing that was always in the junk drawer was that last bit of a masking tape (pronounced "maskintape" in our house) that wouldn't come off the roll in one piece. If someone pulled on the tape to remove a piece from the roll, all they got was a triangle shaped piece of brown sticky crap that was of no use to anyone followed by a hearty, "Gotdammit!"
Other items in the junk drawer were tubes of hardened glue, dead leaky batteries, nails, a rusty hammer and pennies. I don't recall ever needing a penny bad enough to go junk drawer diving. I bet my brother did though.