If there is one thing in the world I want, more than low triglycerides, is to be Systematic. Methodical. Organized. The kind of guy who would know where his '02-'03 TDS Certificates are . Knows precisely, not the "in that bin, I think. Wait, I think we gave it to the raddiwala last week" kind of knowing.
You guessed right, folks. I have just been reprimanded for losing papers. The missus is a wee bit upset with me for not being able to find a paper that dates back to King Tut's reign.
Luckily, it is not important. When I told my accountant, after searching high and low, upsetting several families of spiders and at least two creatures which had 12 legs each, that I could not find them, the least I had expected was "Get ready to join the Rajus in prison". He gave me the "boys will be boys" look and said "That's ok. Don't worry about it".
"Excuse me!", I wanted to ask him, "If you didn't want it in the first place, why did you ask me to look for it?" But I didn't, of course. Because I was weak kneed with relief.
A lesser man would have peed in his underpants. I of course gave him my nonchalant look and said "Rate! I'm gappy. I mean Hate, I'm grappy". He dismissed me with a wave of his hand and resumed his telephonic conversation where I could hear him asking another client to produce his assessed balance sheet from the Indus Valley Civilization period.
I know Systematic people, of course. One of my friend's dad is like that. He has every paper he has ever used, on file. Income tax returns, of course. Property papers. Train tickets. Vehicle Insurance. Even, though I have not physically verified this, every piece of tissue he has ever used, on various parts of his anatomy. All neatly filed.
That is the guy I'm going to emulate. And when my accountant asks me for the paper with which I had wiped my butt on the evening of October 13th, 2001, I will have it ready. In triplicate.