Now that I have the luxury of time, I have a list of projects that I hope to eventually complete.  Maybe even before I turn 80.  The list is varied and long – everything from the relatively small task of making a charitable donation on Chloe’s behalf (she gave me her charity money months ago and I have yet to take care of it for her) to the much larger task of writing a children’s book.  And in between those two extremes are a lot of medium-sized projects that I’ve just recently thought of or that I’ve put off for way too long.

The catastrophe that is my desk area fell into the latter category.  The mess was overwhelming.  And disheartening.  After watching yet another episode of “Top of the Lake” yesterday (I am now caught up), I tackled the disaster area.  And several hours and a couple of bags of shredded paper later, the space is now one I’m proud to reclaim as my own again, instead of dismissing it as an area that was most certainly invaded by evil extraterrestrials.

This newly organized space is due in no small part to the wonderful invention that is the paper shredder.  We finally invested in a shredder that actually works after being burned by one too many crappy excuses for shredding machines over the years.

Thank you, Fellowes company, for your invaluable contribution to the modern office.  The satisfaction of hearing the hum of the motor as it shredded papers I’d hoarded for so long was like savoring an amazing dessert.  You crave a second helping.  (And for those of you whose minds are in the gutter like mine, you might also equate said satisfaction to something else, but I’ll leave it at that, because typing it would just be perverse).

So I started to look for other stuff to shred, just because.  Until I couldn’t find a piece of paper I actually needed to keep.  Had I been a little too zealous with my Fellowes machine?  It could very well be.  I’m still looking for the document.  But no mind.  Shredder, you will always be my friend.