Today my beloved stapler died. Long live my stapler! In its honor, I have this post, originally posted on my Red Room blog.
In case of emergency or disaster (natural, man-made, or otherwise), I have a lot of staples in my house. Not the kind I can eat¬; the kind that go in my stapler. According to my box, which I may have had since childhood, I have 5000 staples.
I had some time on my hands, so I decided to verify this. If anyone were to ask what I was doing, I decided I’d say, “I’m taking a census.” Midway through counting, I stopped. I had come to my senses. I realized I had not asked the staple community for its consensus. Also, in order to effectively count each staple, I would have to break it away from its neighbor and from the whole pack. This upset me.
Staples need their neighbors to keep them company. It helps them think inside the box. There are, of course, staples that think outside the box. I have found them on my floor. Some by sight, some by touch, and some by other senses.