Wrapping Xmas Gifts

 Clad in her dressing gown, her lovely brow was furrowed and her gaze locked on the small items she was preparing for ornamentation. The implements of said ornamentation were carefully arrayed over the dining room table: bows, paper, ribbons, transparent tape and of course her scissors.

Such was her concentration that you would think she was preparing for a moon launch or the invasion of a hostile country (more on that later).  Over the past year I have made it clear that as we are preparing to live on a fixed income she must dial back her generosity; our children are older and for the most part, entirely self sufficient. Although my request did not fall on deaf ears, I suspect that they are somewhat hearing impaired.

My wife loves to wrap gifts. She will stand there for hours, transforming plain boxes into artfully decked parcels that are a delight to the senses. The gifts are festooned with colorful paper and fabric; our  relatives and friends are transported while removing the wrapping in order to gleefully purview the precious contents thereof.

Removing the wrapping, now there’s the rub.

There must be a gene, a common thread of DNA that influences the female psyche to bestow upon gifts the same level of protection afforded the Third Reich by the Siegfried Line. I watched in horror as my soul mate wrapped a gift in layer upon layer upon layer of paper. It looked like she used the entire Sunday edition of the NY Times. And the tape.

I have searched in vain for any government or university sponsored research that reveals the number of fingernails lost per yard of tape applied to gifts.

Both my wife and my sister have this compelling need to engulf presents in a sea of tape. This is an unbridled passion, a forbidden love of tape. I believe this has international implications and have named this affliction, “L’amour de la bande.”

If anyone is aware of a program, or medication, that addresses this condition, please let me know.