The Joy of Shredding

I’ve been on Mission Clutter Control for a few days now. Unlike previous Missions however, this time around I’m not attacking the entire house with rabid fervor to disembowel our domicile of all extraneous materials (for which I am sure my family is grateful). I’m on a slow, bit by bit plan, breaking it down into smaller, more manageable projects that can be accomplished in smaller blocks of time. Clean off the surface of my desk. Clear out old bills and receipts. Clean off, launder bedding, store away winter blankets, and re-make the kids’ beds. And, as I go, I’m focusing on filling trash bags and give-away bags. Not just moving the clutter around, but slowly, surely, getting it out of the house.

My favorite part of this has been the paper shredder. We used to have one of those dinky little things that sits on top of a trash can, designed mostly for home use, I’m sure. But several months ago we got a real-live getting-down-to-business shredder, one that comes with its own receptacle, and is serious enough it can destroy things like credit cards (woohoo!). While our timid little former shredder frequently got jammed and required meticulously picking bits of paper out of its teeth with tweezers to get running again, our new shredder, so far, has stood up very well to my jubilant feeding of it. I am hoping for a long, happy life together.

So, why do I like shredding so much? Brother Bear is a collector. Of everything. Including junk mail. And, it’s rubbed off on Angel Bear. If a catalog makes its way into the house, one or the other of them inevitably must keep it. Indefinitely. And, like most people I know, we get a number of catalogs. Some we get multiple copies of. And I always end up picking them up from wherever they were left. Several times. And, I can’t throw them away, because they must be kept. If I slip them into the trash, I am often found out and angrily confronted with my transgression.

But, if an item finds its way into the shredder, then it’s gone. Permanently. Forever. There’s no getting it back. And if I’m sneaky enough, no one else in the house will know it even existed. What does this mean? It means I will never spend one single additional moment of my precious life dealing with that item. I am completely freed from it. From the entanglement, from the arguments, from the dilemma of whether or not it is worth holding onto. No issue. No stress. The decision has been made, and it is indelible. It’s actually very liberating. And, we’re using the shreddings for the bunny hutch, so it’s being recycled.

Ah, the joy of shredding… Just be sure no one sees you doing it.