Dear Paper Cutter of My dreams,

You have cut hundreds and thousands of gi-normous book-binding boards for me for years and years. You have sliced countless large sheets of arches into smaller sheets of arches and large sheets of cardstock into smaller sheets of cardstock. But alas, this move was not kind to you.

Some mover recognized your ruggedness, but not your vulnerabilities. He packed you sloppily so that a precious tiny plastic piece on your guillotine broke off. I thought you could do without. Today, you let me know in no uncertain terms that this was not the case. I will try to let go. Thank you for all the service you have provided me over the years. Thank you for not cutting off my finger today.

Now, can you please please please tell me where I can find a Malaysian relative that might be looking for a new home?

Dear Big Daddy Printer,

Why oh why didn't you just tell me you were lonely? I thought you were broken. Ruined. The move had done you in, just as it did in Paper Cutter of My Dreams. All the repairmen said it was true. So I spent hundreds of dollars replacing you. Only for another repairman to stumble our way. He said he can fix you, no problem. What? Where was this guy last week? And where did he come from this week? I thought I already had that looked at -- more than once! Hmm. Next time you are lonely, well, I suppose there won't be a next time because the new printer can't be returned.

Hey, anybody out there: I'm your go-to person for 13x19 printouts in Kuala Lumpur. I've got a fleet of gigantic printers ready to do the job and taking up all the counter space in my studio.

Good thing I cleared some space by getting rid of that gigantic paper cutter.