Today, a delicious part of my day (minus the 10 a.m. hour of chomping on peanut butter M&Ms) was flipping through the Office Max catalog.
I had a purpose: find a new gel wrist rest. The lycra on my current one has stretched out, much like the ass of a bathing suit after a couple seasons. (Not to mention said M&M crumbs, et al., are mashed into said lycra.)
Oh, but I was seduced by retractable gel needle point pens and all means of desktop storage! It was so easy to lose myself in this little black book for sluts of organization.
I've always been kinda slutty for office supplies (and work). Who else, at age ten, revels in receiving paper clips and file folders for his/her birthday? Those gifts came in at the height of my office-playing days. It was not just some passing fancy, either, but a good few years of office "work."
I guess all of my early practice stamping, filing and scheduling solidified my destiny to work in an office for the rest of my life. Granted, the bulk of my work is not the administrative kind, though I do actually enjoy that part—the paperwork so many curse.
Now excuse me, I have some forms to fill out...