Worth the Paper It's Written On?

Dumped the cleaned up chapter 4 in various mailboxes the next morning, just as I promised (and something really strange happened which I will discuss later).

That evening I ran into Professor Herr Doktor Doktor and partner, St. Jude the Patron Saint of Lost Causes and Grad Students, at Staples, where they were buying boxes for their impending move onto the tenure track and the two-body academic problem. We chatted a bit and they teased me a little for my hoarder's buying habits, as I tend to get the cheapest possible industrial TP and stock it up for months at a time. This makes sense to me, since I'm usually so confused and behind on my to-do lists I don't know what day it is much less can deal with the apt running out of toilet paper randomly, but they found it funny. (Ha ha, guys. Sheesh.)

I also got my filing paper, as you need the special cotton stuff when you turn it in, and some file boxes to supplement my groaning file cabinet. Maybe cleaning will be easier if my stacks of old teaching stuff were not out and available for the cats to chew on and create little blizzards of paper everywhere. With this purchase I'm beginning to see filing as a real and tangible possibility.

I chose the "Exceptional" Thesis Paper hoping that it was a transformative rather than proscriptive term, that and because I couldn't find the "Half-Assed Unrevised Dreck That I Need To Get Out of My Life Already Thesis Paper," and I was getting hungry and antsy.


However, when I got it home, I noticed that it was quite pricey. Anything just to get the dissertation over and done with, you say, and I agree. But in looking over the receipt, I was struck: one box thesis paper, 23.49. Umpteen bazillion rolls of toilet paper, also 23.99.


I leave the drawing out of comparisons of use value and exchange value as an exercise for the reader.






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(Why are there not more pictures of us cats on this blog? We are far more fascinating than any collections of paper, say I, Timido ---- except those little wadded-up crinkly paper balls. Those indeed can be a source of fascination. Perhaps not quite as fascinating as I, Timido, but close.)