Too Much Paper

As I sit at the desk and look around, I am appalled by the amount of paper surrounding me. Honestly, I would think the post office would be making money hand over fist with all the paper they deliver to our house. Day after day, we get catalogues, credit card invitations, requests for money, and, of course, bills. 

You would expect that retired people would be exempt from all that, er well that junk. In the years when I was working, I did need more clothes than now or so I thought. I tried not to have just my Monday outfit, Tuesday outfit, etc. Earlier in my life, I knew what day it was by looking down and checking my duds, but now not so much. I have plenty of leftovers in my closet to throw on.

My farmer also does not need more clothes as he wears a makeshift uniform every day—jeans, t-shirt, and flannel shirt—less if it’s hot and more if it’s cold. Layers! That’s his motto, plus a jacket or two in the truck (our farm is about 35 miles from our house, so he has to be prepared).

I said all that to say, we don’t need catalogues every week or two full of the latest fashions. Seriously? I generally dispose of them pretty quickly or glance through them to make sure farmer and I aren’t dressing out of a different century. On second thought, maybe we are.

But the paper continues to stack up. On the desk, we have an expandable file folder filled with folders and papers for each of us about retirement, insurance, and social security. Don’t even think there is anything easy about any of those. I’m curious to know if someone somewhere thinks they can confuse any post-middle aged people who are over, oh I don’t know, over 55 or 60 or 65. Perhaps those someones think they can do or say anything and we won’t understand it. They may be right.

Of this I am sure—if I look over any scrap of paper, deem it unimportant, and throw it away, we will need it desperately tomorrow. Sigh