The printed stuff lives here too of course. I’ve got magazines jammed into every nook n’ cranny. I try to wash frequently and avoid ‘yellow journalism’, but honestly those glossy mags make me a little itchy under my clothes. We get a daily newspaper too which these days consists mostly of ads and looks more like the phonebook WHITE pages than a sophisticated periodical that’s ‘RED’ all over.
Oh sure, you turn your nose up at my paper-thin puns now but you’d never dare to without your stash of lotion-laced Kleenex nearby. In addition to those precious greenbacks you like to sleep with, you probably have a vault filled with rolls of ultra-soft ‘potty-paper’ and reams of fancy-schmancy embossed napkins too. Surely everyone’s got a healthy stock of plaid-clad lumberjack paper towel rolls, not to mention the yards upon yards of gift wrap trappings for every celebration and major holiday?
I guess in a philosophical sense I love all the paper and boxes because they represent limitless potential. I can design and dream up most any wondrous creation on paper, and the boxes can contain nearly anything but my enthusiasm. At today’s high prices, it’s no wonder we hold our paper proclivities with such high esteem. Except for the toilet paper of course – that stuff still tends to be HELD in rather low regard ... just below the belt I’m told.
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