Junkie

I think it’s time I confess something ... I have a monkey on my back. No, his name isn’t George. No, I have an addiction that I’ve struggled with for years, and it’s time to come clean. Don’t judge me. Try to understand my torment. It’s this: I’m addicted to office supplies.

Yes, that’s right. Office supplies. I. Love. Them. Pens, pencils, folders, notebooks, staplers, erasers, rulers, three hole punchers, paperclips, envelopes, sticky notes, letter openers, tape dispensers, labels, journals, ledgers, and correction tapes. Those are just the things on my desk. I have much more, piled on shelves in my hallway and in my closets.

I even have variations on the items I do have. Pens in all colors and sizes. Pencils with movie themed designs on them. Reams of specialty papers from a dozen different stores. Paperclips of all sizes, including a jumbo one that you could use as crutch if you had an office supply injury.

Other people drive to Oklahoma City or Tulsa to go to the theater or to eat at a 4-star restaurant. I go to visit Office Max. Or Office Depot. When my town got a Staples store, I was there on opening day. I wandered the aisles, enraptured by the gleaming merchandise, all the glorious office supplies! It was mine, all mine! Two clerks followed me with an oxygen tank and mask just in case I was overcome.

I’ve often wondered if the reason I chose to become a writer and dabble in graphic design was because then I’d have a good reason to collect office supplies.

But don’t think I’m the only one with this curious bent in their personality. I see other people in the aisles at Staples, their carts filled with wonderful gadgets and enough paper for seven high schools. Our eyes meet briefly. We know what’s going on, but we pass silently, me on the way to the display of computer-printable greeting cards, they to their particular addiction.

We’re stronger than this yearning, of course. We know we could turn away from the clearance bin items. We don’t really need a stapler with a bright blue metallic finish or heavyweight envelopes with clever geometric designs or colored folders for our files. We always know we can stop if we want to.

But we don’t want to stop. And I’d be careful if I were you even suggesting it. Some of our monkeys carry letter openers. Sharp ones.

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