It’s my plastic wrap! I love my plastic wrap. My mother gave it to me for my birthday. In, um, 2010. I finally get to use it, because we finally used up our old plastic wrap. We don’t use much plastic wrap, especially if it doesn’t really stick, and I have, as I invariably do, punched it open wrong and it doesn’t want to cut. So it took us more than a year to go through the box and get to this, the glorious new box, which actually sticks to the bowl and can be cut and doesn’t require that I get the whole thing out of the drawer and kind of wrestle with it and maybe get the scissors. I am so thrilled with the new box.
Isn’t that the saddest thing you ever heard?
Not the fact that I love my new plastic wrap. (And can I have a by on the plastic wrap, please? I don’t use much, I swear, even now that it works. But sometimes a tupperware will not do.) But the fact that it took me over a year to allow myself to use the new plastic wrap, which was obviously orders of magnitude better than the old plastic wrap, because I had to use up the old wrap, which was so crappy that my mother gave me a box of plastic wrap as a birthday present.
I’m such an idiot.
I have a really hard time stepping up and enjoying things sometimes. I “save” my favorite shirts for a better day, one when I will need to wear them or see more people in them, until I don’t like them anymore. I save magazines until I have time to read the whole thing. Hell, I save my favorite tupperware for really good leftovers.
Now that you know I’m insane, you can go read some other blog, or you can stick around and hear about my plan to give myself a huge gift for this winter. A really life-altering present, something that I have wanted for a long time, that will make me happy every day when I get dressed in the morning. I’m really going all out, people.
The other day, as I was wearing, for the first time this year, my very favorite pair of wool socks (it’s New Hampshire, and yes, I have already worn wool socks), I thought “man, life would be so good if I could just wear theses super comfy, black stripy socks every day.” And then I went radical. I suddenly thought, you know, I could.
I am in the fortunate financial position of being able to afford more socks. But of course, my sock drawer is full of perfectly good socks, all of which I turn over in my hands every day and sigh. There are the knee socks, which aren’t comfortable and which are too thin in most of my shoes. The other knee socks. The two flowery pairs, which I like, but don’t go with very many shirts and so I only wear them with boots. The white sporty ones that slide off over my ankle and bunch up under my foot. And the two pair of white sports ones that I can actually wear to, say, do some sport. Except that they’re usually dirty, because if the black stripy ones are unavailable, I like them best. As I say, lots of socks. So many socks that the drawer won’t shut.
I am going to throw them away, and I am going to buy all socks that I like. And then my life will be good, and every day I will be able to have a big old burst of happy in the morning and my entire day will be better. You probably think I’m kidding, but I’m not.
After the socks, there’s no telling what I might do. I might buy tupperware with lids that match, or drinking glasses that don’t have all the stripes and dots worn off. I might buy enough Kleenex to have a box everywhere in the house that you might use them. I might buy baggies. Or string! Sometimes you really just need some string, but it seems so silly to buy it. Or rubber bands! I could, you know. I’m financially responsible. The budget could take it.
I’ll just start small, with the socks. First I’ll buy them. Then I’ll actually wear them. And then I’ll just break free.