You know how that second glass of wine somehow makes you believe you have tapped into a world of WISDOM and INSIGHT? Apparently one too many days in consumer-driven frenzy can make you believe you are The New Wrapping Czar. I thought I was channeling the spirit of Martha Stewart in my bedroom over the last couple days and I HAVE WRAPPED. Wrapped and wrapped and wrapped. Bizarre, hitherto unknown combinations of wrapping materials. I am The Iron Wrapper.
Oh yes. There is a big pink gerber daisy on a present for my dad. He’s going to LOVE it! And those cute jingle bells on Penny’s present? Oh, they will be a nice, unabating accompaniment on the NINE-HOUR DRIVE up to Redding* tomorrow. Luckily Fred & Ethel will be so drugged they won’t hear the constant ringing of holiday cheer in the trunk.
Normally I am a crappy wrapper (wow, that’s a horrible sentiment divorced from present-giving context).
And it’s really a miracle I could wrap at all given all the help I had:
But something took a hold of me and all of a sudden I WAS ON WRAPPING FIRE.
And now my poor family and friends have to pay the price of my fervor. Ah, how I love to give!
*Or, The ‘Ding, as my sister calls it. Where I get no celll reception at the ‘rents. So e-mail is my lone connection to the real world for the next week, aside from trips into town for Starbucks or take-out or last-minute mall purchases. Really, though, sounds heavenly. Yay, vacation!