QUADRIVIUM

I went to take some clothes out of the dryer this afternoon, and there it laid, a crumpled mess of pulp. I had neglected to check the pockets of my jeans and sent my little notepad—you know, the one I use to jot down ideas when I’m far away from the keyboard—right through the wash.

At least it came out in one piece. The last time I ran one of these through the washer, I was picking little flecks of paper out of the fabric of my shirts for a week.

I really ought to just pony up and purchase stock in Mead.