trashed

I never understood the allure of shredders. At least, until I got a shredder I never understood it. After talking with my accountant, I realized that I did not need to save 35 years of old taxes, old brokerage reports, and similar documents that all bore my social security number. So I deced to get rid of them. At first, I thought I'd burn them, but the pile was getting pretty large, and I didn't want a bonfire. So I bought a shredder. There is something distinctly addictive about feeding in paper and watching it turn into piles of fluffy scraps. You keep thinking, "What could I use this for? Packing material? Mulch? Insulation?" But the answer doesn't matter, because the fun is in the shredding itself.