Well Worth It

Next to the desk, I have a recycling basket to dispose of all of the junk mail and newspapers and envelopes that usually sit on the dining room table. And next to the basket, I have a bag for all of the things that I want to shred before getting rid of them. This bag consists primarily of bills and canceled checks and anything that might have account numbers on them, or other top secret information.

It’s been building up for a while, so I decided to hire Sam to shed all of this stuff.

Apparently, I had been putting it off even longer than I suspected. It turned out that there was more than one bag buried back there, there were three - all overstuffed. Along with the three bags, I added several folders of outdated financial aid information from the various colleges of the past.

On Saturday, Sam started shredding in the morning, took a break so we could run our errands and have some lunch, then he finished up in the afternoon. By the time he was done, he had filled six grocery bags with ribbons of paper scraps.

I paid Sam to do this job. Someone could argue that since he lives in this house, Sam should be doing something like this as a matter of course. And that’s true. But I look at it that Sam doesn’t collect a regular allowance - not that a regular allowance should be a gift or anything, but he helps around the house - in ways that are seen and unseen.

Sam brings his laundry upstairs and he puts his clothes away - always without me asking. He fixes his bed every night, also without me asking. And he washes his dishes, usually, and he’s always more than eager to help me cook. Sam always helps me out whenever I ask him. So, yeah, maybe he should just be doing that stuff anyway, and he does - with no expectation. But the thing is, most of all, Sam helps keep me sane.

I gave him ten bucks.