…where I put the stamps?

I’m in my “office.” I can easily lay my fingers on any one of the following:

71 pencils, unsharpened.
Electric pencil sharpener.
Empty McAfee VirusScan box.
Star Wars Gungan Frontier CD (rated E for Everyone)
a Bah Humbug pillow that I washed with something blue so the letters are fucked up.
Some kind of plastic skull thing that lights up, chewed by a dog.
A broken camera. Make that two of them.
An FHP.
A Hygrometer, thermometer, and clock in an attractive wooden case.
A tape dispenser, no tape.
A picture of my wife in her wedding dress, in a frame with the same kind of lace around it. What a hottie.
Bank statements going back to 1989.
A ziploc full of marbles, chewed by a dog.
Kite string, wrapped on a handle.
A hole punch.
A train whistle (a big wooden one). Chewed by, yes, a dog.

But no fucking stamps.

I need more wine, apparently.