Let's face it, half the point of Christmas is packaging. Taking those 3 pairs of panties you bought for Grandma on sale at JC Penney and trying to make them look like an exciting gift--that takes some packaging. Every toy now has horrendous packaging up to and including stringing wires around the necks of innocent princesses, so that while their shoes fly off the minute you rip the paper, the rest of their body is locked in a vice grip against the cardboard backing.
While Christmas exacerbates my condition, I actually suffer from year-round packaging phobia. When I get a bill in the mail, I immediately take out all the exciting gemstone offers and commemorative plate exclusives to keep only the bill and envelope to use in paying it--nothing else. Meanwhile, Husband drives me crazy by saving every envelope ever delivered to the house in his name--including those from his own grandmother who lives around the corner.
Nothing makes me itchier than when I see that someone has left the clear protective covering on the emblem on their luggage. You are supposed to remove that! Can I? Just peel it a bit? Oh, sorry.
And don't get me started on the people who store old ski lift tickets on their zipper. Really? We get it. You're cooler than us and wore that coat skiing a jillion times. Now hold still while I get the scissors.
So while we had a wonderful Christmas and were blessed with good health and lots of family time--my condition is worsening. Our house is full of bags filled with boxes that contain useless tissue paper that hold clothes covered with tags and stickers... AHHHHHHH. And the formed plastic that used to hold 3 bajillion Littlest Pet Shop hair brushes seems to hide in the carpet, waiting to jump out at me. Little metal wires that were keeping the John Deere tractor from driving out of its box are now multiplying under my couch. HEEELLLLP.
If I have to spend all of Boxing Day throwing things away, I WILL rid myself of this horrible packaging that has infested my house.
And since there are only three shopping days left til my birthday, I'll let you in on a hint: I'm running low on Glad trash bags.
Yet another reason I think we were separated at birth. My stance while the kids open presents can only be described as ready-to-pounce. The moment a present is opened, a package-disposal process is triggered: plastic clamshells sliced open; wires cut with with metal clippers; plastic brackets tossed in a pile with plastic ties; cardboard boxes broken down for recycling ... . My poor boys never have the chance to be one of those kids who like playing with the box better than the actual toy. All they see is a flurry of falling plastic ties and deconstructive origami and POOF! the packaging is GONE.ReplyDelete