When my life starts to feel a bit out of control, I reach for my labelmaker. Am I the only one? I frantically organize, file, categorize, and separate my life into rubbermaid bins and folders (all labeled, of course). All this because I can't control anything else. Not my toddler. Not my husband. Not my anxiety.
You can always tell when I'm having a control-fit. "To thrift" piles start to accumulate in the hallway. The three-hole punch and a stack of papers are scattered across the desk. And my DYMO LetraTag labelmaker sits perched on the counter, ready and waiting for its next task (if they made a labelmaker holster, it would be on my hip). Not even the remotes are spared my category-frenzy:
When J. packed for his hiring conference last month, I threw my labelmaker alongside all the office supplies in his suitcase. "For labeling all those company files. You know, easy-to-read, handy reference." You'd think I had asked him to sport a lunch box by the everyone will think I'm a geek look he gave me. Didn't he know what a sacrifice I was making, forfeiting my labelmaker for an entire week? He shook his head, but nevertheless dutifully packed it. When he came home it was the first thing I looked for as he unpacked. J. grimaced. "Oh, you know what? I was in such a hurry I think I left it at the hotel." GASP! Left it at the hotel?!
There's nothing I hate more than wasting money buying something I already own. I wondered if I could just learn to live without it. But as the stress around the job-hunt mounted, I found myself in the office supply aisle at Target. I was a little more calm the moment I put it in the cart.
Now, off to find a surface I haven't labeled...