I have enough post-it notes - 75% of which are still in cellophane - to open a store. I rarely every use post-it notes. Office Supply Addiction is an ugly thing.
Some of my very fondest memories as a little girl were those special Saturdays when Daddy would go into the office to catch up on stuff and take me. I got to sit at his secretary's desk. I could pick up the phone (but not dial). I could staple stuff to my heart's content. I had my own spiral dictation notebook and could take pretend dictation (although my father always used a dictation machine*). I could spend endless hours playing secretary there. I was always massively bummed when Daddy would come out to "my" desk and say it was time to go home.
*Daddy dictated correspondence a lot. He'd sit on the couch or somewhere with a folder of papers and talk into his machine with the letter's to by typed by his secretary (the real one, not me). He had a deep broadcast voice that he used. And his sentences would all end in a distinct "Period" or "Period, Paragraph." You often heard in our house: "Daddy's playing Period Paragraph, don't bother him right now".
Oh got off on a tangent there, didn't I. Post-it notes. I should donate them, or at the very least offer them up on the free shelf. Instead today I reorganized a drawer and found a good place for them. Next time.
I'm particularly pleased with today's dolls. I may do one more today but more than likely I'll use the afternoon to put the elastic in my latest swim suit and cut out some more dolls rather than assemble.