My fire extinguisher.
You see, I'd go and get it, forget what it was for, cradle it in my arms as I tearfully watch my home burn to the ground, realise what I'm holding moments after all my worldly possessions are little more than ash and rubble, and then let out a stream of the most vile profanities I know, offending old ladies and insane christian zealots for miles around.
This is in no way an exaggeration. Similar things have happened before.