I am the worst wrapper in the history of present wrapping. I always start out with such good intentions. I’m going to cut my lines straight and even. I’m going to line the corners up and crease my folds. I’m going to use very little tape so that you can’t even see it. I’m going to put ribbons and bows on every present. They are going to be beautiful.
These ideals last only until I lose the scissors the first time, which is to say, the first time I put them down. They’re scissors. They’re big and heavy and bright red. How did I lose them? I just had them. I swear, I put them right here! Ten harried minutes later I find them on the floor, two feet from me, under a bag and two rolls of wrapping paper. And that would be okay. If I didn’t have to find the tape next that I swore I placed right on top of that present. Ten harried minutes after that, I find the tape underneath an unwrapped present half stuck to a label. Which would be fine if after I did my taping and tried to move on to the next present I didn’t have to find the freaking scissors again. Are you kidding me? My patience wears thin, and I’m only one present in.
Not to mention, that present that was going to be so pristine looks like this in spite of my best effort.
So, now, I’m frazzled. The straight sleek scissor cuts look instead like lightning bolts, and that’s when the paper doesn’t rip haphazardly. And it seems no matter how much paper I use – I swear, I could use the whole roll – it’s always just a centimeter too small for the present I need to wrap. What do I do? Do I cut another inch strip and tape it over the whole way? Do I leave a slice of present open to the eyes? So much for my glorious presentation. I usually end up using the old grinder-roll technique where I stretch the paper corners diagonally over the width of the present. While that normally does the trick, it’s less than pretty. Man, I hate wrapping.
And if I do happen to cut enough paper for the present’s width, invariably there is way too much left over on either end. And since I’ve already taped it over the middle, at this point, I’m jaggedly jabbing at the tangled mess with the scissors to cut it down to size. The lightning-bolt cuts become a mountain range of zig-zags. Fantastic.
And what is with the bubbling of the flaps once I fold them into place? You could hand me the easiest, most square-shaped present in the world, and the middle seam would flare up as I pressed the edges. I straighten the seam and the edges flop out everywhere. And why must the white back of the paper always show its unwanted face? Wrapping is the hardest thing ever. My solution, of course, is tape. Lots and lots and lots of tape. I will tape you into submission, you wiley present! That is, I would, if I could find the blasted tape! Where is it? I swear I just put it right here a second ago!
And after an hour of hard work, I get a pile of presents all looking like this.
All the bows and ribbons in the world won’t fix this mess, so I give up. It’s the thought that counts, right?
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