I decided yesterday that all my problems in life can be solved with the simple purchase of a Trapper Keeper.
You remember the Trapper Keeper. Not just a 3-ring binder--The 3-ring binder. The binder to end all binders. It had a flap. A flap that extended off the back side and wrapped around to securely Velcro to the front side, thus keeping all your important papers (like the note declaring your undying love for Mikey even though he gets detention a lot) safe and secure. It had plastic rings that opened and closed with a simple sliding mechanism--no more trips to the nurse's office for metal ring injuries. It was designed to hold Trappers--not just pocket folders, but special pocket folders, with diagonal edges that kept important papers (like the answers to next week's history test your friend "accidentally" found on the teachers' lounge copy machine) safe and secure.
It. Was. Awesome.
The only bad part about the Trapper Keeper? Trying to decide which Trapper Keeper to get for the school year. Because you know you're only getting one, and it would take an Act of God to get your mom to break down mid-term and fork over the eight bucks for another one. So choose wisely. Lisa Frank unicorns? Precious kittens? Stylized illustration of a boom box emblazened with the word "RAD!"? Or do you go with the simple, plain Trapper Keeper in one of seven primary colors? Don't make this decision hastily. Because the Trapper Keeper you ultimately select is going to determine your social status for the next nine months, pal.
The Trapper Keeper was my Master.
Yes, I am a little crazy. But that's not the point.
As I was saying...I decided yesterday that all of my life's problems could be easily solved with the simple purchase of a Trapper Keeper. I would fill it with Trappers and tabbed dividers to represent the various areas of my life that are a mess--a Home divider (for cleaning schedules, chore lists, etc); a School divider (for lunch menus, calendars, homework planners); a divider for each of my two children (for various things like medication info--one kid could fill his own Trapper Keeper with this crap); a Money divider (for bills and budgets); a Meal Planning divider (self-explanatory); etcetera. The logic behind this being, if all this stuff is secure inside Trappers and a Trapper Keeper, it's not flailing about loose-leaf in my head.
The first step in this process, obviously, is procuring a Trapper Keeper. I went to it's maker's website (www.mead.com) and joy of joys, there it is. It's changed over the years--the flap is now magnetic, how ingenius!--but it's the same basic design. I crowed with delight like a baby in a candy store as I selected a color and clicked...
THIS ITEM IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE.
Damn. Oh, well, this color, then...
THIS ITEM IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE.
Now I started to panic. I clicked another color...and another...and another...
Every color. Unavailable.
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
I don't understand, Mead. What did I do? Where did I go wrong? Why are you punishing me?
And then it hit me. Eighth grade. The year I snubbed the Trapper Keeper. The year I caved to peer pressure and selected a plain, white, 3-ring binder for my educational needs. It didn't have a flap. It didn't have plastic rings. It didn't even hold Trappers because they were too big and stuck out past the edges of regular binders (and that was just not aesthetically pleasing). What it had was an open edge at the top, allowing one to slide things between the front cover and the clear plastic coating. Photos, magazine clippings, stylized drawings of boom boxes embellished with the word "RAD!". The possibilities were endless. It had the one thing the Trapper Keeper lacked--customization.
And so I used that binder, and used it to display photos of myself and my BFF doing stupid things (like not buying Trapper Keepers), and I lost important papers (and got snubbed by Mikey, who heard about my undying love for him all the way in the detention room), and I got busted with the answers to the history test, and I had to have the tip of my right index finger surgically reattached as a result of a metal ring accident. The thing fell apart shortly after Christmas and I had to get another one, but my mom didn't care because those things were like, a buck fifty. The following year, I started high school, and bypassed binders entirely for spiral notebooks.
I'd forgotten that slight. Mead, apparently, has not. And now they are punishing me. And it hurts.
I'm sorry, Trapper Keeper. I'm sorry I thought displaying pictures of myself with Q-tips in my nose was more important than brand loyalty. I'm sorry I didn't immediately recognize "function" is more important than "fashion." I'm sorry I fell prey to the Peer Pressure machine. But in my defense, I was twelve. I didn't know any better. My parents were buying my damn school supplies, they should have stepped in and been the voice of reason and experience and good judgment and demanded I use the Trapper Keeper. They were just all giddy over saving a few dollars. It's their fault, not mine.
All I'm saying, Mead, is give me another chance. I'm older now, and wiser, and I know the truth. I'm no longer blinded by the gimmick of a custom binder. I--
--wait, what? What's that I see in the "product description?"
With Trapper notebooks you can stay organized and have a notebook that is all yours with a customizable front cover.
Oh, wow, Mead. Really? You went there? For reals? That's just plain dirty.
This isn't over, Mead. This isn't over.
I won't even begin to tell you how much help you actually need. But Mead, has forgotten all about you, did you ever think the lack of trapper keepers was due to the fact that its that lovely time of the year, when you can only find the ugly things left in the supply aisle, because all the good moms have already gone and purchased the best school supplies for their children, while people like you and me continue to keep refreshing the page hoping that they have finally re-stocked.
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