My grandson loves to "help" me with shredding. And, for the second time, his exuberance got the best of him and he flaunted the "no more than six sheets at at time" rule. After spending more time than I care to admit retrieving small wads of paper pieces from the shredder's rollers with a nut picker, its hopeless. It will work in reverse... not so helpful.
Now I'm left to wonder... do I replace it again? I've already jettisoned one hopelessly jammed paper shredder to sit rusting in a landfill for a couple of hundred years. If I don't shred my incredibly important bill-paying residue, will somebody really rifle through my recycling bin and make off with the scraps to steal my identity (and isn't it actually a bit of a compliment to think that someone would want to?)
What if I just made triple-sure to tear said shrapnel into smaller bits before disposing? Could I survive shredder-less? Will my decision not to replace this particular small appliance be the last straw for some Office Depot schedule writer, causing some hardworking knucklehead in Aisle Two to get pink-slipped? How long can I continue with these rhetorical questions? Forever?
I think I've talked myself into it. No New Shredder.
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3 comments:
I'm a multiple ripper myself...so far so good. Although it could just be that I am not interesting enough to steal my identity :)
I'm quite sure that if anyone actually stole my identity they would be so bored with it that they would bring it back. With a sympathy card.
And if anyone out there stole my identity relative to this blog it would be helpful. I can't remember what I put in so I have to be unanimous (per Cliffy Claven).
Aunt Teese
Whoopsie, sorry about that one, Gram. You can add it to my tab. (At the moment, I think it stands at about 13 years of indentured servitude.)
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