You might say that I have a bit of a problem. My friends would say it’s more like an addiction. I am constantly on the search for the ultimate notebook, planner, or organization system. When it comes to notebooks for my writing and drawings, I’m not terribly faithful, and I have been known to abandon many an otherwise perfectly useful system after a delirious bender at the art supply store (RIP, Artist & Craftsman Supply Harlem!).
I’ve tried them all: hard-backed, black-covered sketchbooks with thick blank white pages (pros: you can draw; cons: lack of lines or grid makes it difficult for writing), more modern iterations of composition notebooks (pros: nostalgia factor; cons: cheaply made and you can’t rip out pages without destroying the whole thing), and of course, the beloved Moleskine (pros: elastic keeps the notebook closed, high quality paper, convenient back pocket; cons: way too expensive). So when I found Muji, I was in notebook heaven.
For the uninitiated, Muji is kind of like a Japanese IKEA, but for office, beauty, and household supplies, clothing, and accessories. Their aesthetic is very minimalist—most items are in neutral tones of gray, beige, and white. Their office supply section is my favorite. You can choose between .25 and .38mm pens in a rainbow of colors, should you be so discerning. And whenever I go there, the pen display is swarming with nerds like me test-scribbling on newsprint scrap paper pads.
The hidden gem of the Muji stationery department is the A5 Dotted Notebook. It retails for a mere four dollars, and instead of rigidly oppressive lines or anal-retentive grids, it has subtle gray dots, suggesting a tiny bit of structure without bombarding you with it. I have been using this notebook—or rather, a series of them—for the past three years.
Until this September. I finished my most recent notebook and headed to their Times Square store, only to find that they were out of stock. I figured, OK, it’s back-to-school time; they will order more. I tried the Fifth Avenue flagship store. Same story. That weekend, I called the Flatiron store to avoid having to make an extra trip, and was told that they had them in stock. When I got there, they somehow didn’t. I spoke with Jasmine, the kind woman at the register who said they might be planning to discontinue them.
I was frantic. Was there anywhere else where they had them? Luckily, the Williamsburg, Brooklyn store did. Jasmine, my new best friend, demanded that the guy in Brooklyn check the floor to make sure. He didn’t find any. Undeterred, she said check the basement, and he did. They had 50.
I am embarrassed to say that I took a 70 minute train trip from upper Manhattan to Brooklyn in order to buy 10 of these notebooks (and more embarrassed to say I thought about buying all 50). As clutched my shopping bag on the train, I thought about how tenacious I can be about seemingly inconsequential things. You might call me a perfectionist.
For now, I will stay faithful to my dotted pages— balancing myself delicately between the constraints of lines and the chaos of the blank page.
But you don’t want to be around me if I have to detox.
this gruntled worker 