I am slightly obsessed with wrapping and packaging Christmas gifts. Fine. More than obsessed. Obsessive/compulsive may more accurately describe my tendencies. I just can’t help but keep moving the target, even after I’ve told myself the cheap dollar store wrapping paper will do. Truth is…it doesn’t. It’s cheap. It rips easily. You can often see through it (defeating the purpose of wrapping paper altogether). And it is never quite pretty enough.
So I go out and buy more gift-wrapping accoutrements.
Those magazine articles don’t help – with spreads of Christmas gifts donning DIY wrapping paper, stenciled gifts tags, sprigs of fresh holly and real turtle doves (okay, the last one is a minor exaggeration) have ruined me altogether. Because I WANT THAT.
And the whole myth, the magical “JOY” of wrapping gifts, falls severely short of expectations. It’s as if Christmas amnesia sets in…or denial…and I believe yet again that if I set the mood with plenty of holiday lighting, festive music and hot chocolate, wrapping will be more enjoyable…this time.
For some reason, I never anticipate the incredible amount of physical exertion wrapping presents require. Why do I just feel like I ran a half-marathon??
And I get SO thirsty. Why am I SO thirsty?
And I lose stuff. Even with the tape that straps to my hand. And the losing stuff, repeatedly, provokes a sort of Christmas insanity. Where are my scissors? They were…JUST…HERE!! *gritting teeth* What!? I’m out of tape again???? NO!!!!!
Did I…did I just get a paper cut? OH-MY-GOSH, I…am…bleeding. I have a Christmas paper cut! Are you kidding me?
And the achy-ness – the physical pain of hours of pulling paper tautly over the edges of even the most manageable boxes. So much pain. But pop some aspirin cuz’…must…keep…wrapping.
And, just wait, because at least one of my gifts will be so oddly shaped that no amount of wrapping skill or experience will suffice. Really, I should just drop those gifts in bags. But bags feel like a cop-out. Besides, I can’t find a bag wide enough. So I try to wrap the gift, while feeling all sorts of buyer’s remorse. But the ends of the paper won’t fold in neatly and instead gets crinkled and cracked. Or just as I am finishing, something (probably one of the eighteen sharp edges on said object) pokes through the paper. And I’m like “NOOOOOOOO!!!!”
Deep breaths and a lot of self-talk…”It’s fine. It’s totally fine. It’s just going to rip again, so I am NOT rewrapping it. No…NO. I’m not rewrapping over some little tear. That’s just crazy talk.”
*Cut to scene where I am again wrapping this same item, wrestling it like an alligator until the edges tear the paper again. And crying a little.*
Paper is everywhere. Bows scattered. Tape reserves dangerously low. Scissors missing…again. Back aching. Head throbbing. Paper cuts bleeding. Is it the twelfth day of Christmas already??!?
Then I look up and realize I’ve only wrapped a total of…three and a half presents. There are twenty-five more to go, and that’s not counting a bajillion tiny stocking stuffers, including socks (and how does one wrap socks???)
An overwhelming desire to assume the fetal position consumes me…
But, no. NO. Must…keep…wrapping. And…stamping gift tags. Can’t…stop…the madness…