I’ll admit it, I occasionally shop at Anthropologie. For a long time, the clerks would wrap your purchases in white tissue paper with little red dots on it. I saved this paper and used it during the holidays, because it just fit.
I save a lot of things, actually. Wrapping paper. Boxes. Ribbons. Bows. Anything that’s not egregiously torn or wrinkled gets folded up and shoved into a plastic bin for future reuse. I would say that this behavior demonstrates my frugal, savvy, and eco-friendly nature, but I suspect it mostly stems from sheer laziness. I don’t want to leave the house in search of supplies every time I give someone a present, you know?
Now that the gift-giving season has come around again, I dragged the dusty plastic bin out from under the bed in the spare room and commenced spreading its contents all over the living room floor. This is a crucial part of the wrapping process, you see. It’s also imperative that you base your center of operations in high foot traffic areas, thereby maximizing the tripping hazard for yourself and for loved ones.
Among the detritus on the floor I found a long, flat, rectangular Macy’s box intended for presenting jewelry. My mother had last used it on some long-ago occasion to give me something that definitely was not jewelry. No matter. The box was the perfect size for one of the items I needed to wrap, so I opened it up only to find there was already tissue paper hiding inside — and it was that familiar red-dotted kind.
I’d used the tissue paper I’d saved from Anthropologie in a gift for my mom, and my mom had saved it and reused it in a gift for me, and then I’d saved that and ended up reusing it in a gift for my friend. Go! Go! Out into the wilderness! Will I ever see you again, my fair red-dotted friend?
Eh. At least I know where I get this problem from.