2/14/20
This morning, as I wrapped my niece’s 10th birthday present, I thought about talents. Wrapping presents isn’t one of mine. I am actually so ashamed about my lack of gift wrapping skills that I had done it secretly while my husband was still asleep, the better to avoid any embarrassment should my mission fail. I would be very proud of myself when all is done, though: this will culminate in a beautifully wrapped rectangle of a gift. (Sure, by the time you and I are done here, there may be tiny jagged bits of paper and a few pieces of stray shreds, just minor evidence of my wrapping struggles). You will have to keep reading to find out. Foreshadowing hint: there will be tiny jagged bits and some stray shreds hanging on before this is all over. I’ll be proud anyway; there’s been much worse.
You, thoughtful reader, could ask, why not just use that fancy kind of paper–the nicer kind where you can follow the guiding dots to cut your paper in a straight line, no need for last minute repairs? I did, in fact, have and use that slightly more fancy paper, the sort where the magical dots told me to follow the yellow brick road and cut the paper here, not there. So yes, I did use that more sophisticated “fool-proof” paper, but it was not “fool-proof” for me. When I taped up the edges from the bottom to the part where it looks a little like an envelope, sort of triangle-like and polished, (just to give it that extra flair), there was still too much paper anyway. I’ve learned from previous experience that it is a better finished product if you don’t try to cram in a whole bunch of paper in the corners, stuffing the excess into giant balls of material around the edges. That was my unskilled old method. Instead, before I even began the excess material stuffing and folding and crumpling which I would have done in the past, (before my strategical improvements and all that I have learned over time), I cut off some of the wrapping paper bulk. Remember that in my first phase of wrapping, I had counted my guide dots carefully. I was so determined to succeed that before I had even started, I had used, carefully, the dotted edges tool. I actually counted how many rows of dotted edges I would need on each side to get the job done, so as to thwart my previous tendency of having too much extra paper. Now, that’s advanced. Not just dotted rows (advancement number one, to help with straight lines) but the specific number of dots (advancement two, to help with quantity of paper). Actually, I felt pretty advanced already, having bought aforementioned dotted row wrapping paper to begin with. Unfortunately all that planning and attention to detail hadn’t worked.
I’ve learned in my life that using less paper is the trick to doing a better wrapping job. With more paper one can make critical errors–such as having too much paper. This is why I had so deliberately counted out my corresponding dots in the first place. The very first location I worked on wrapping the present, the guest room, was where I completed my initial attempt, my rough draft, so to speak. This was where I was wrapping the present on the bed to get the paper to a more manageable level and remove much of its bulk. This was when and where I cut the pink unicorn birthday wrap to begin with, counting carefully the guide dots, four guide dot stripes on each side of the box. (The unicorns themselves weren’t pink, but the pink around them, in case you wondered). That had been the first phase of wrapping, on the bed in the guest bedroom. I blame the bed.
After phase one, I was proud of myself because then I could– and did– promote myself to phase two, albeit out of necessity. Phase two was abandoning that cursed guest bedroom and relocating entirely with the not-yet fully wrapped gift. Now I would complete the wrapping on the dining room table, pushing aside the bills and the mail. (Since the evil bed had thwarted my first attempt). I had even cleared those bills off in advance of the transfer, such was my determination to succeed, just so that when I carried the enormous Harry Potter Game gift to the dining room table, I would have a clear path, making my journey much less likely to include a fall or a spill. (In addition to being a bad cook and a bad gift wrapper, I am also very clumsy. I am so awesome in many other ways, though)! All of this preparation, from guest bed to dining room table, from pre-cut enormous quantity of paper to manageable quantity, were small little victories I had achieved, and all of this before 9:00 am while my husband still slept. I was so careful, thinking ahead. Paper, pre-managed, scissors and tape also pre-placed on the table for easy access. I had the right to be proud.
The transfer from guest bed to dining room table was a success. Now I could finish. At last: the fourth of the four corners, folding the first small little piece of material before folding it again, the extra detail fold before the master fold. I lifted the glorious penultimate into the final piece, like an envelope, which would put the seal on the gift forever…or at least until my 10-year-old-niece would rip through the damn thing with no awareness whatsoever of the careful, painstaking, almost orchestral preparation that had occurred on her behalf. Folding up the small final piece, into the last strip, it ripped, oh-so slightly in the corner. I took a breath. It would be okay, I knew, because in spite of the dot rows I had so carefully counted, and in spite of the pre-bulk removal of excess paper on the evil guest room bed, there was still much too much paper, of course. Stealing from the other side would solve this problem, since that side of the gift had extra paper too, of course. It had the same number of extra dot rows that my now shaved-by a sliver imperfection side had. Okay. Cutting it back one row could save it; it wasn’t too late.
I had already vowed that this rectangle present would be perfectly wrapped. There are no excuses with dotted papers and rectangles, right? My problem was rooted in the estimate itself. I had over-guessed to the tune of three extra rows of dots on each side of the box. It was just a simple Harry Potter game in a rectangular box; how hard could that be? (Foreshadowing music returns, except now the shadow is right here! Now it’s just music!). However, even with my careful planning, even with my present wrapping-final dress rehearsal atop the evil guest bed so many hours before, somehow I had still judged incorrectly the amount of paper needed. And now, all but the last of the four sides of the rectangle were taped, leaving me no choice but to do something drastic. I got the scissors ready.
Leaving three of four sides still taped, I could then carefully slide the box of the Harry Potter Game toward one edge. I pushed the large rectangular box through the opening from the uncorked side, the unfinished side. The secret tunnel. This gift-wrapping bullshit was not going to get me! This would not be the end of my successful wrapping! So I did what any thinking, determined, pride-comes-before-a-fall gift wrapper does. I used the scissors on the one remaining side and cut some bulk off it, so I wouldn’t be left (again) with extra paper. I’d show them, those wrapping paper demons! And that’s when it happened…as I cut, directly from the mostly wrapped paper itself, the sinny-est-of-sins, from which a shred was born. Not a star is born. A shred. Sure enough, just as I had feared, there was now an imperfect sliver, something less than gorgeous on my niece’s box. (Hey, watch that, buddy! She’s a child, you asshole.*) Not to be deterred, I continued carefully, removing still more of the excess paper. That ought to do the trick.
It was daring, this cutting, and then risking the push-through of the Harry Potter box from one sealed, already taped, area to the next, like an Ebola victim through airport security*. I couldn’t be sure that it would work. Any slight movement could mean that the shift from one side of the paper tunnel would fail, especially if the paper ripped again. I held my breath…and pushed. It went through without a hitch. The rectangular box of the Harry Potter game had been successfully slidden (I know, I know) to the other side, where there was still plenty of paper to spare, glorious excess paper that could help right this wrong. Now I only needed to pull the tiny edges up, level one. Then I would take the larger collection of paper up still further, taping the final cluster of the two layers onto its final destination, level two. I succeeded. The gift was wrapped at last! Harry Potter could be delivered to my sweet niece in its fullest glory. (I hope she doesn’t have the game already, but at least my job was done). I had succeeded! The rectangular box was wrapped!!!
I will never try wrapping a basketball though; I leave that to my husband or other experts. As for a gift of wine–never for a little girl of course–but for grown-up friends or family, I am always extremely grateful for wine bottle bags, which have saved the day many times, whether because it’s a last minute gift or simply to avoid the gift-wrapping shame that has grown inside me over the years. Damn, how I miss the years of giving CDs.
*I realize that “Ebola victim through airport security” is offensive and in poor taste. I still think it’s funny. I was also wrong earlier to assume you might have been having any pervy thoughts about my niece’s box. I apologize.