Well, this is delightful. The word on the street is that you are supposed to save all your financial records, etc., for seven years. Or one hundred and seven years. Whatever will fit in your basement, apparently. It's unclear.

In any case, I have spent an exhilarating two hours going through just some of them, but now I have decided to stop so that the exquisite joy of sorting and shredding can last longer, drawing it out like a lingering kiss or the last piece of a particularly decadent chocolate cake. I would hate to do it all today and thus deprive myself of this rarefied bliss tomorrow. And probably the next day. And the next day. And the day after that, too, I'm guessing.

Jesus. The pleasure just never fucking ends.