The dreaded waste of (insert something of value here)

Time, energy, money, thought, breath, paper, perfectly good milk, whatever.

When Fiance and I suddenly (but not unprovokedly) decided that we rather want to move out of our rented house in a timeframe resembling RFN (right...now), there was a lot of people to talk to, a lot to arrange, and a lot to think about. One of the smaller and more irritating realizations that followed was that the 300 silver return address labels I'd just received would probably go in the trash. :(