I suppose in this world, we all have our own ways to be a little bit uptight.
You know, that one thing we get clamped down about? One might call it, dare I say, anal? (in that Freud sort of way)
Yeah. I might have a few of these uh, quirks.
It was clear to me that The Good Man was my destiny when, early in our relationship, I saw the label making machine in his office at work.
Oh yes. It was the granddaddy version to the same one I had in my own office.
A man who understood the need for a label maker! Oh swoon!
There is something sooo right about having a stack of paperwork neatly placed into manila files (of various colors) with clean, readable labels.
Yes! Oh sweet sphincteritis of the gods!
It shouldn't make me that happy. And yet...it does.
So imagine my utter joy when The Good Man was cleaning out some boxes and getting rid of supplies, and asked me if I wanted this:
It's one of those old fashioned style embossing label makers...the kind where you turn the letter to the arrows and squeeze?
"Why yes please!" I said quickly, excited to have the power of making the labels right there in the palm of my hand.
It's so...I don't know, engaging to spell out each word letter by letter, turning the disk, squeezing the handle. Thinking ahead to how I want it to look....
Much like the Solo red cups, I have an unnatural appreciation for this little manual point and shoot label maker.
I'd like to teach the world to organize.
In perfect harmony.
I'd like to file the clutter and crap.
And keep it alphabetically.
(can you name that jingle?)
I know, I know. It's so wrong...I need help......
