Wednesday, March 25, 2020
If you are a guitar aficionado and you read this blog, you know I have been trying to play guitar for many years now. You would also know that shredding refers to playing hot fast rock and roll licks on an electric guitar.
Well, that is not the type of shredding I am talking about.
I am talking about shredding papers.
She is going through boxes and boxes of papers; bank statements, appliance instructions, bills, and what not.
My job is to shred said papers so that important valuable personal information can not be stolen when they are disposed of.
Now I really don’t think that if we toss bags and bags of papers un- shredded into the town recycle dumpster, that someone will dig through hoping to somehow raid our bank and brokerage accounts. Is it a valid worry? If my last name was Gates, maybe, otherwise I think we are pretty safe.
Still Mrs. C wants these papers shredded, and I am not about to discourage her de-hoarding project. Besides, what the hell else do I have to do all day. I Can’t bowl, I can’t play golf, the gym is closed. I can only exercise so much at home, and I do get tired of the guitar after a few hours.
So, shredding it is.
You think shredding is easy? It is not. Not for me anyway. I would not have been much help for a panicky Bernie Madoff.
The damn machine jams very easy and clearing a jam is a bitch. At least in the beginning. I have learned how much the machine can shred at a time, how to feed it gently, when to dump the shreds and when to clear the teeth.
After much initial frustration with clogs and overflow mess I have gotten into a rhythm. There is something therapeutic about the hum, the grinding, and the sheer destruction of a paper shredder.
I have been at it now for two days. It will probably take a bit longer. Mrs. C is only up to year 2004. Sixteen years adds up to a lot of bank statements, appliance instructions, bills, and what not.
Oh well, were in lockdown. What else am I going to do?