And we all live in little boxes...

[desperance]

I bought a shredder. And brought it home and unpacked it, and found it had a hole in its side, poor shredder! So I packed it up and took it back and swapped it for a whole one.

And brought that home and unpacked it, and - because the point of a shredder is to reduce the quantities of garbage in this house, sooner than add to them - I neatly and carefully packed all its packaging back into the box it came in, in anticipation of discarding same.

Then I left the office for an hour.

Coming back, what did I find...?



I guess I can still throw away the packaging, but I may have to keep the box, at least until they trash it. (At the time of writing, Barry is actually sitting on top of the box, biffing the flap in hopes it may stay closed and never let Mac out again. Needless to say, Mac is biffing back, from within...)

Comments

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Remind me again why, in a house full of clawed beasts, you need a mechanical device to do your shredding for you?

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Because they decline to shred on command, or usefully. I told them that if they didn't buck their ideas up, they would be superseded; they failed to heed or believe me; supersedition has occurred. They don't care. They have a box to play with.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Supersession?

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Seditious!

[devonellington.livejournal.com]

All boxes must be left in the open, ready for pouncing, sleeping, diving, playing, and other general feline merriment, until such time when they are so ripped and bent that they can no longer support our weight.

Elsa, Iris and Violet

(using Devon's computer, because she's out taking care of -- oh, horrors! -- a DOG).