I wrote this in December of 2007 and I must admit, I believe I have actually gotten worse instead of better, my eyesight not being what it was seven years ago and having gone over the preverbal "hump" in my age.
But it is still worth a chuckle or two and for those who can sympathize or empathize, have a drink on me!
All right, I admit it, gift-wrapping is not my forte’. I am looking at my recently wrapped pile of Christmas presents and am once again forced to come to this horrible realization. Is there perhaps a class I can take? A website that shows you the ins and outs of proper wrapping? Is there no help for me?
Long, long ago, my ex-husband took over the gift-wrapping job in our family. I was regulated to tag duty only and it worked out pretty well except for the fact that he could not wrap his own gifts. He did not appreciate the ease, sensibility, and loveliness of gift bags – he wished to “unwrap” his gifts, forcing me into my yearly panic of gift-wrapping.
I dread this task and put it off until the last possible minute, usually Christmas Eve. It usually takes me a glass of wine or two or several cocktails involving Bailey's Irish Cream to find the courage to break the gifts out of their hiding place and face the inevitable daunting task.
Yes, it’s true, I have gift-wrapping issues.
I know that that whatever gene that causes you to have this particular talent has skipped right over me and gone straight to my daughters. I know however, that the gene does in fact run in my family as my sisters all have that particular strain of DNA. Their gifts come meticulously wrapped with those cute little curly-q bows, you know the ones. You can just tell they spent hours wrapping these gifts and making these ribbons of brightly colored delight. I on the other hand, have even forgone the little stick-on bows as even the simple task of their proper placement upon the package eludes me and they seem to fall off just as I am placing them beneath my tree.
My sisters also use cute little “To-From” cards, their penmanship as always, elegant. Me? I just hope to spell the names right (what is that kid’s name?) and not screw up the peel and stick tag but even those seem to frequently end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I had a sister-in-law once upon a time, who would even go so far as to match the pattern on the wrapping paper so that it appeared endless, without a beginning or end, perfect. I sometimes have to cut little strips of paper and tape them onto the gifts because I cut the paper too small to begin with. I can see why she no longer wishes to be related to me.
There is yet another problem of mine to which I must fully confess, I can’t cut straight to save my life. I start off okay but then end up an inch off one way or the other therefore resulting in the necessity of patching the wrapping job. They used to make wrapping paper just for us scissor challenged folks, it had a grid on the back and everything, I often wonder why they stopped selling that. My guess is, with us “crooked cutters” roaming the countryside, using more and more paper in the wrapping process, and killing virtually hundreds of trees with each passing holiday, that more wrapping paper production is required and what self respecting wrapping paper company doesn’t want that. There it is folks, Capitalism at its finest.
And how do I wind up with all that extra paper on the ends? I trim what I think is enough but still end up with a wad of paper that seems to be an inch thick and has at least five edges to it. It takes four pieces of tape to hold it all into place.
Speaking of tape, who decided to make it invisible? Whose idea was that? Once you get it off the roll and onto your finger you can’t see it any longer and you just have to pray it goes where you want it. Usually I find I have just missed the edge and other piece is required, once more adding to the bulkiness of my wrapping job. Not to mention the wrinkle that I often find in the middle of tape after it is already in place. Another embarrassing moment in my reality.
But I trudge along, making my way through the tape, wrapping paper, and bows until my task is completed for another holiday season. My misshapen packages are hidden once more from sight and I can breathe easier once again, my panic attack now firmly behind me. And besides the only thing that truly matters is the thought behind the gift, right?
Did I remember to remove the price tags?