Bills, Bills, Bills… Quoting Destiny’s Child doesn’t happen every day for me, so this is a special occasion indeed. You may even want to mark it in your diary, and see if your boss will let you have the corresponding date off next year to commemorate the occasion. Going back to the point however, and I am at a loss as to what to do with all these bills I get. How long should I keep them for? Should I file them? If I started filing all my statements, there wouldn’t be any room for the taxidermy kit I recently bought at a car boot sale. It’s no wonder these huge stationary stores are popping up all over the place, we seem to be a nation that loves to hoard stuff. Admittedly, I can’t stop hoarding. Since the purchase of my taxidermy kit, my bedroom now looks like a reconstruction of The Animals of Farthing Wood: stuffed badgers, foxes, moles, and ferrets; all skilfully posed in combat, fighting a plague of rats. Now, this reconstruction wouldn’t look nearly as menacing if there were statements from The Bank of Santander stored alongside it. I need a solution.
While shredding my bills might seem logical to some, to me it seems a bit of a mental way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I see it as no different to breaking up stale digestive biscuits so no-one could tell if they were McVities or Asda’s Value range, in fear of being found out by the Cookie Monster. I could of course set fire to my old bills, but how sensible is that? I live on the fifth floor of a small flat, with a woman who only eats buttery alternatives. I’m guessing that should the fire get out of hand, saving the buttery woman from her demise might be tricky, especially if her skin is as greasy as the freshly basted Christmas turkey that I dream about… Where are my matches?