The Shredder

As usual, I am the enabler of my own problems. By that, I mean that the new shredder was purchased by me. I thought it would be nice to have. The Staples Mailmate Junk Mail Shredder is awesome. It also shreds CD's and credit cards, and has a very high rating on the Staples web site. And it is great for shredding mail.

But I didn't expect my mail to be routed through it before I saw it. Nonetheless, that is what is happening.

As I've mentioned before, my brother had some credit cards, checks, and bills sent to my address while he is out discovering a shortcut to the West Indies. And most of those items never seemed to arrive. Or did they?

Last night I noticed that again I didn't get any mail. Seems like I should get mail. I used to get mail. Most of my life has been punctuated with mail of some sort. But again, nothing.

I had a hunch. "It's funny how my mail starting disappearing when I bought that shredder a few months ago," I said to myself. I looked in the shredder. Digging through the little strips of paper I found my brothers' names and my mother's name. Putting the pieces together, I found the top of a bank statement for my late mother's estate account. The executors are two of my brothers, and there were their names.

I took one little strip up to the Queen and asked her if she knew how it got into the shredder. (I suppose that is a dumb question.)

She looked at me as if to say Are You Serious, and said, "You mean to tell me that you looked through the shredder to find this little piece of paper with your father's name on it??" She was trying to suggest that I was now insane and compulsive.

"That isn't my father's name," I said. "That is Chip's name and Rob's name. And it is from a bank statement that I didn't see, let alone shred."

She looked a little lost and then said, "Stop aggressing me."

I don't know if aggressing is a word, but I understood. She was threatening to use this as an excuse to press charges against me for harassment and force me to move out. So I left her alone and went to bed in the unwelcome-guest room.

But now I know where my mail went. And now we know where my brother's $180 in checks went. Either my ex-wife or her evil daughter have shredded them. That is annoying to say the least, but as Pete says, "It all comes, of course, from not realizing that it is a federal crime."

I thought about connecting live wires to the shredder chassis to send her a little Thank You, but it is mostly plastic and wouldn't properly electrify. So instead I wrote to my lawyer again.

Each time he reads a letter it is $50. Each time he writes one it is around $100, and each time he gets on the phone with me or her lawyer, it is much more. But he promises he is going to write a "strongly worded letter" this time (for the same price I assume). But how do we know she won't shred that one too? He also says this is illegal and might constitute domestic violence. (Funny, domestic violence was the first thing that came to my mind too.)

Meanwhile, I am waiting to talk to the local Postmaster about how I can redirect my mail.

I should add that with each new development I get calls from brothers and email from friends who are concerned. It is nice to get such calls. But it is also convenient to have something to be angry at. If she didn't do so many things to harass me, I would have too much free time to think about the failed marriage and broken family. This keeps me busy, and it keeps my lawyer's family fed.