I have been going on to my friends for a while now about how stressed I am. I overbooked my time. (All my own fault.) And I don’t know who I think I am pretending that I am any more stressed/busy than everyone else.
One thing has kept me laughing though.
Our wrapping paper from last year.
See, I bought this extra-long wrapping paper to wrap all those odd sized children’s presents. Except I didn’t really have that many odd sized presents and I ended up cutting all my extra-long paper down to regular paper size.
Then when Christmas was over, I had three partially used rolls left over to store for a year. (In addition to the new regular-sized rolls that I bought last year on clearance.)
Two years ago, in one of my many attempts at getting organized, I bought a wrapping paper caddy. (A big plastic container that fits long rolls.) Except, you guessed it, it doesn’t fit extra-long rolls.
So there I was last year with three extra-long rolls and a regular sized caddy. What to do? If I remember correctly, I waited until I was pissed about something else, then went down to the basement and took out my post-holiday vengeance. I grabbed a pair of scissors and went nutso on the extra-long rolls. I chopped at them, cussing and trying to pare them down to normal size. To make them fit.
And when they proved to be too much for me, when I proved to be too weak, I resorted to folding the ripped up ends over so that I could at least shut the lid to the caddy.
And this year I have laughed at the never-freaking ending supply of paper on those three rolls. I have to cut off the part that I hacked on, so basically I trim each few feet down to a regular-sized roll as I go. Unrolling has become impossible as the massacred end flops over with each twist of the roll.
But I laugh.
I laugh at the anger I knew I was feeling when I did it.
I laugh at how absurd most of my attempts at organization turn out.
I laugh at all the promises I make that next year I will start earlier. That I will enjoy more. Do less.
It’s a maniacal kind of laugh.