I bought a shredder yesterday and have busily been shredding old financial statements and bills. This is quite fun and looking at the old bills and cheques is somewhat satisfying as I feed them into the maw of the shredder.
I also got a pile of cards out of the drawer and began looking through them. Unfortunately, there were lots of cards from my ex, Tom, who was professing undying love and the hope that we would be together for the rest of our lives. I took almost as much pleasure at feeding them into the shredder as I did when I cut up his portrait with a Stanley knife a year after he dumped me for someone fatter, richer, and in Singapore. Not that I’m bitter, mind you.
So, shredding can be therapeutic as well as tidy.