But there's one chore I do not care for at all. I do not like to shred paper. I really dislike shredding paper.
Until recently, I was depositing all of my paper that needed to be shredded into a large plastic Duane Reade bag. The bag filled up pretty quickly with junk mail, receipts, documents with my address or sensitive information, and so on.
I'd had this bag for 10 years. For 10 years it had been at least half-filled with paper. That's how much I dislike shredding. I chose to hold on to a tattered Duane Reade bag for a decade rather than empty its contents and dispose of it.
There are three reasons why I don't like shredding. The first reason is that I associate shredding with mice. Years ago, when I lived in a small studio apartment and was single, I used a shredder basket as my primary trash can. Repurpose your old household items! It worked out fine until one day, while lying in bed, I noticed the plastic bag inside of the basket was moving violently. I don't think I needed to check the bag to find out what was happening, but I did anyway. Yes, there was a mouse inside the bag, and yes, I ran to the door, made a swift exit out the building and hid in a nearby Starbucks for the next three hours. Or something like that.
So, shredding is a terrible reminder of a terrible period in my life.
The second reason why I dislike shredding: It's a boring task. So, so boring. I sit on the floor, feed a piece of paper into the shredder, patiently wait for it to be slashed, cross-cut style, and repeat. I can't really entertain myself in other ways while shredding. I can't watch TV; the shredder is too noisy. I can't listen to music for the same reason. I just have to sit there and watch and listen to the shredder. It's not a relaxing noise. The sound of destruction rarely makes me feel relaxed.
A label on the shredder says I can insert eight sheets of paper at a time, but the shredder didn't fully comprehend the condition of the paper in my Duane Reade bag. With few exceptions, the paper was wrinkled or crumpled or both. I could have left it in nice condition, but how often do you leave junk mail in nice condition? It's junk.
At the start of the summer, I told myself that this was it, that I would rid myself of the Duane Reade bag once and for all. By Labor Day weekend, the unofficial end of summer, I still had the Duane Reade bag, and it was still quite full. So I spent two of the three days during the holiday weekend shredding like I'd never shredded before. I didn't go to the beach, I didn't travel, I didn't do any of the things that I saw my friends were doing on Facebook. Instead, I sat and shredded.
It's amazing what one can find in a Duane Reade bag when he hoards paper inside of it for 10 years. There were receipts that were so old that the type had completely vanished. It was as if it had been erased from time. Did I really use my credit card to buy something from Circuit City? Who knows? If I did, I'd lost out on my chance to make a return a long time ago.
I had to take breaks every now and then because the shredder overheats fairly quickly, and when that happens it just quits. I had to wait a while for it to cool off before I could resume. It's kind of annoying. Shredder, you have one job. I didn't pay good money for you to sit around and do nothing.
When it did overheat, I emptied the basket into a paper bag (not from Duane Reade). Here's the third reason why I dislike shredding, and it's easily the most frustrating reason: It is impossible to empty the basket without making a huge mess. The shredder I have is Amazon-branded; as I've written on here, I love my Amazon trash can. But Amazon messed up with this shredder.
I'd assumed when I purchased the shredder that I'd be able to empty the basket by removing the top. Not so — with this shredder, you must remove the basket from the side. Here's what happens when you remove the basket from the side:
Every. single. time. I've tried and tried and tried to empty the basket into a paper bag without making a mess, and have never come close to getting it right. It can really break a man's spirit when a shredder forces him to stand in a pile of his own receipts. I have to vacuum the tiny pieces of paper on the floor, a number of which somehow manage to stick to my leg or furniture, like sprinkles at the Museum of Ice Cream. Paper is never sticky until it comes face to face with the hose of a vacuum.
Eventually, finally, I shredded all of the paper that was in the Duane Reade bag and tossed it all out. I used to think that sticking out a double major in college and finishing that degree was my finest accomplishment in life, but I may be more proud that I stuck out that Duane Reade bag. I finished the college degree in four years; I finished the Duane Reade bag in 10. There's something to be said for that.
Now I'm taking some well-deserved time off from shredding. I have a new bag, with a new collection of paper to shred. I've promised myself I will shred it all sometime in the next several years.
I'd had this bag for 10 years. For 10 years it had been at least half-filled with paper. That's how much I dislike shredding. I chose to hold on to a tattered Duane Reade bag for a decade rather than empty its contents and dispose of it.
 |
| My old, reliable Duane Reade bag. |
So, shredding is a terrible reminder of a terrible period in my life.
The second reason why I dislike shredding: It's a boring task. So, so boring. I sit on the floor, feed a piece of paper into the shredder, patiently wait for it to be slashed, cross-cut style, and repeat. I can't really entertain myself in other ways while shredding. I can't watch TV; the shredder is too noisy. I can't listen to music for the same reason. I just have to sit there and watch and listen to the shredder. It's not a relaxing noise. The sound of destruction rarely makes me feel relaxed.
A label on the shredder says I can insert eight sheets of paper at a time, but the shredder didn't fully comprehend the condition of the paper in my Duane Reade bag. With few exceptions, the paper was wrinkled or crumpled or both. I could have left it in nice condition, but how often do you leave junk mail in nice condition? It's junk.
At the start of the summer, I told myself that this was it, that I would rid myself of the Duane Reade bag once and for all. By Labor Day weekend, the unofficial end of summer, I still had the Duane Reade bag, and it was still quite full. So I spent two of the three days during the holiday weekend shredding like I'd never shredded before. I didn't go to the beach, I didn't travel, I didn't do any of the things that I saw my friends were doing on Facebook. Instead, I sat and shredded.
It's amazing what one can find in a Duane Reade bag when he hoards paper inside of it for 10 years. There were receipts that were so old that the type had completely vanished. It was as if it had been erased from time. Did I really use my credit card to buy something from Circuit City? Who knows? If I did, I'd lost out on my chance to make a return a long time ago.
I had to take breaks every now and then because the shredder overheats fairly quickly, and when that happens it just quits. I had to wait a while for it to cool off before I could resume. It's kind of annoying. Shredder, you have one job. I didn't pay good money for you to sit around and do nothing.
When it did overheat, I emptied the basket into a paper bag (not from Duane Reade). Here's the third reason why I dislike shredding, and it's easily the most frustrating reason: It is impossible to empty the basket without making a huge mess. The shredder I have is Amazon-branded; as I've written on here, I love my Amazon trash can. But Amazon messed up with this shredder.
I'd assumed when I purchased the shredder that I'd be able to empty the basket by removing the top. Not so — with this shredder, you must remove the basket from the side. Here's what happens when you remove the basket from the side:
 |
| "#$%#$%$#%#$%$#%$#@%$#@" |
Eventually, finally, I shredded all of the paper that was in the Duane Reade bag and tossed it all out. I used to think that sticking out a double major in college and finishing that degree was my finest accomplishment in life, but I may be more proud that I stuck out that Duane Reade bag. I finished the college degree in four years; I finished the Duane Reade bag in 10. There's something to be said for that.
Now I'm taking some well-deserved time off from shredding. I have a new bag, with a new collection of paper to shred. I've promised myself I will shred it all sometime in the next several years.
