Stuck on You

I recently endured the painstaking process of organizing the contents of my desk drawers.  You can have a junk drawer anywhere, I suppose, but the general office junk drawer always seems to be the worst - as well as the most random.  Extra buttons, empty Pez dispensers, cap-less pens, assorted rubber bands and orphan paper clips and safety pins- these are the items that find themselves swimming around in a sea of disorganization.  You can't really throw them away, but you're never sure what to do with them either. 

There was one other item lurking in the mess:  a still shrink-wrapped sheet of Peanuts St. Patrick's Day stickers, no doubt purchased years ago with the intention of either sending out St. Patrick's Day cards (never happened) or distributing to the cheeks of strangers at an Irish pub on the beloved holiday (for you singles, a very effective way of meeting new friends ...).

I always smile when I see stickers.  Once in awhile, there is a sticker on my daughter's "report card" from daycare, and those are the reports that I always save.  There is something special about those little sticky pictures.

Chances are, I would have always had a fondness for stickers, but I can't help but think it has something to do with my impressive sticker collection in the early 80's.  What an awesome fad!  I still remember my first package of stickers:  a collection of frogs in various poses with bees, butterflies, and flowers.  They turned out to be valuable in the trading market:  I think I managed to trade a few of them for some of the circle scratch n' sniffs (which were almost as valuable as the puffy stickers).  I was a rookie then, though.  Happy to acquire my new treasures, I forgot about the fundamental rule of sticker collecting - always save a full sheet for yourself.  I never again saw the frog with the butterfly, even though I once had four of them.

As the Peanuts evidence shows, I am still drawn to stickers.  I still get that fluttery feeling when I walk into a stationery shop and see the rotating rack of sticker sheets at the end of an aisle, or better yet, spools of stickers displayed like ribbons, for sale by the sticker.  Those were the really sought-after ones.

I haven't seen my sticker books in ages, but like a childhood friend, they are not forgotten.  I think I'll spend some quality time in my parents' basement the next time I'm there ...