Encounters with Stupidity

My advisor has a rubber stamp of his name, Robert T. Downs. He stamps all of his books so when others in the lab "borrow" his books for long periods of time, he can easily spot and recover his books. I saw this, and thought it an excellent idea. I'm somewhat obsessive about labelling everything as mine (if it is). Business cards are cheap in large quantities, so I ordered 1000. I cut out just my name. Add some cyanoacrylate (super glue) and viola! you've got a nice raised-letter semi-permanent label. My mouse is labelled. My computer, my monitor. My stapler and 3-hole punch. I even wrap labels around my writing utensils at work. (There is a general lack of writing utensils in our lab, so mine tend to diffuse away from my desk to other desks, table, and into adjoining rooms.) Recently I decided that I needed to expand into rubber-stamp territory. I ordered a nice rubber stamp and have since enjoyed the satisfaction of stamping my name in many of my books. No matter that I've already hand-written my name in most of my books, usually in multiple places. The inside cover always has room for one more stamp. Am I neurotic? Of course. But does all this stamping make me feel warm and fuzzy? Yes!