Friday, December 23, 2011

After a hiatus of Never, Terrance and I attempted to wrap gifts together last night.

I am not sure that we ever discussed why we don't wrap gifts together, but I suspect that in the early years we just never thought about it. Actually this isn't true. I have always wrapped gifts. As he spent the first five years of our relationship buying me "gift sets" from the liquor store on the way home, he felt that since they were boxed that it counted as wrapped.

I recall the argument over this habit of his - both the lazy wrapping AND the not so subtle attempt to turn me into a raving alcoholic by waiting until the drive home before any "event" to purchase the most half assed gift he could find.  And then I drank the bottle of Sambuca.

Last night I figured - What the hell.

I assembled my carefully chosen for the best aesthetic combinations paper, and tape ( the good tape, not the cheap stuff that doesn't hold) and scissors and called my spouse forth. I requested he bring the gifts He has bought for Emily. In point of fact, we don't shop together, so we never know what she has until each adult has unveiled Ye Olde Mountain of Far Too Much Shit that they have been accumulating in the closets and basements of the house.

Terrance has the ability to simultaneously appear shocked and appalled at what I have purchased, all while unveiling more and more gifts HE has squirrelled away. So while he is yelling at me for spending too much money, HE is walking in with MORE AND MORE gifts.

Normally I do what I do with 98% of his conversation....which is to go to my happy place and ignore him.

 I begin to wrap my gifts. Measure gift with paper. Assess if the gift can be wrapped and another gift can be wrapped with left over paper.  Perhaps I even attempt to configure gifts on paper so as to make only one extra cut.

HEY! When you are wrapping a billion gifts, your efficiency of movement can stave off the inevitable carpal tunnel and spousal stabbing which is going to be, frankly, inevitable.

I am merrily on my third gift when I glance over at Terrance.

Oh.           Oh my.

He is handling a Rectangular package. Nothing hard or fancy about this wrapping job. The paper I  have bought even has the grid guidelines so he doesn't cut bizarre shapes that I can't reuse.

He has one side partially wrapped. I say partially because while there is more than enough paper to cover the gift, he has mangled the edge of the paper in what I can only describe as "twisted, burning wreckage."

He is now pawing at the other end of this gift like his hands have swollen to the size of hams.  In fact, this is when I started to giggle, because he looked like Frankenstein being confronted with Fire.  He was making the same noises too.

I finish my gift, chose the tag that matches the paper best and place it in the middle of the bed.

"Wrapping makes me Angry",  he states.

This strikes me as enormously funny. All I can think is "Fire! BAD! Fire, BAD!"

 My slight giggle becomes a chortle.  I now think "Gift wrapping with the Hulk" and envision my husband with Hulk Hands smashing gifts left and right.

He moans louder.

"Oh good god, just give it to me!"

I finally relent, taking the gift from him and attempting to unravel the Gordian knot of tape he has placed on the back. "For such an intelligent man, you'd think that the mystery of wrapping a rectangle might be a bit easier to solve...besides, I know you were just fucking it up so I would take it away from you - the same way I know you bleached the clothes in 1993 so you wouldn't have to do laundry."

He grunts at me. Yes. Grunts. Sullenly.

He announces his new job will be to write the gift tags.  I laugh again and go back to wrapping.

But here is where he slays me.  The pile of gifts is in the middle of the bed, and I am taking them one by one...wrapping and placing them over near him.

He then looks at the gift and says "What's THIS?!" in a simultaneously confused and accusatory way.

I then have to look at him and explain it is a gift HE BOUGHT her. I am just the agent of wrapping.

He does this EVERY TIME. Seriously. Every Fucking Gift.

Finally I blurt out:

 "Is the concept of object permanence lost on you? Are you the Cat? Just because something has been wrapped, doesn't mean the thing inside has been changed. If I hold my hand up to my face, will you be worried I have disappeared?"

I think this statement is Hysterical. I believe I riff for several more minutes on this theme, cracking myself up more with each passing second.

He, of course, does not find this funny at all.

And so endth our one and only attempt at gift wrapping together.

Watch this. I loved it. Terrance does not.

2 Baleful Regards:

Bethany said...

No stabbings? I call that a success.

Madge said...

"Is the concept of object permanence lost on you? Are you the Cat?"

Stop. I can't. Breathe. Haaaaaaaaaaa!

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