The main thing I take advantage of when I’m at home, aside from the free laundry, the meals, and the room and board and stuff, is office supplies. Growing up you never paid for your own staples or stamps or tape or paperclips or any of that stuff – at least I know that I didn’t. So that’s the great secret – office supplies. The more you’ve purchased the more of an adult you are.
Do you own envelopes? a stapler? scotch tape? packaging tape? stamps? paperclips? a stapler remover? 3X5 index cards? those little labels that say "sign here" and are shaped like arrows? post-it notes (in multiple colors)? white out?
I own a stapler, and not one of those weak, student model, plastic, holds only 5 staples, kind of staplers. It’s black, it’s metal, it’s hefty, it’s a Swingline, it’s perfection. I bought it at a thrift store, but it’s a stapler nonetheless. Why did I buy it? My family owns more than half a dozen staplers, but I personally did not own one. And it’s not just the stapler; it’s the fact that I bought a box of staples for it that truly demonstrates how responsible I am. 5000 staples in this box. It will take me a lifetime to use them all – even if I were to write 2, 763 more papers, hand out 105 more ward newsletters, and become some sort of activist that hands out bunches of stapled leaflets protesting the economic status of the Netherlands I would still have thousands of staples left. I bought them because they’re an investment - they’re something I know I’ll use (eventually).
I also own tape. It saddens me to buy tape. It saddens me more to use tape, because I know that using it means I’ll have to buy more. I don’t use paperclips, so I don’t buy them. But I pick them up whenever I see them on the ground. I don’t know why, because I don’t clip paper together with them, that’s for sure. I just unbend them before depositing them somewhere else.
I don’t know who mails in our electric bill each month.
I wouldn’t have done it except I needed to mail a letter by today to a certain Elder of krebscout’s. It was a dang funny letter. He’d better appreciate my twisted sense of humor and the fact that my soul is now in a cash register up on campus somewhere. But in spite of my indignation I know as well as anybody that it had to happen some day-it was a dream to think I could avoid it forever. I just always thought it would never catch up to me, and spent my time wishing that this day (like most days) would stay in the distant future. Stupid future catching up with me.