Adventures in Gift Wrap

I love giving gifts. It makes me happy.

I hate wrapping gifts.

I mean, I REALLY hate it.

I appreciate receiving a well wrapped, pretty present, mostly because I know the effort that goes into it. I am not good at many of the skills that go into such a presentation, namely:

Folding
Measuring
Cutting
Taping
Making a bow

Um … yeah… anything else that you might need to do to a gift.
I have a gross tendency to underestimate how much paper I need (or I way overestimate it, and then have a rumpled lumpy mess). The tape. It does not go where I want it to go. The bows. They are problematic.

As such, I give thoughtfully selected gifts that look like they’ve been manhandled by Santa’s more psychotic elves.

I was DETERMINED not to have this be the case this year. I picked out pretty paper, matching bows, nice tags. This was going to be the year. The year of the pretty present.

(Please note the use of the word “was”.)

Because, you see, I failed to factor in one thing. One fourteen pound, incredibly curious, very vexing thing.

Her name is Beansie. And she never met a piece of gift wrap that she didn’t want to pounce on. Or chase. Or ribbon she didn’t think looked tasty. Or a box that wasn’t suitable for : napping on, gnawing on, sharpening her claws on, or shoving maliciously off the table and then staring at, in case it decided to start moving.

She was asleep when I started wrapping presents, so I was able to get a few boxes done. And then …

… then she woke up. Looked at me, yawned, and wandered off. I was amazed. I was going to get away with the wrapping? It was a Christmas miracle!

And it was.

Until I caught her eating paper on the presents I’d already wrapped.

“Noooooo!” I cried. I grabbed her and when I did? She got a piece of tape on her paw. That’s when the real shenanigans began. She gave me a startled look, one that seemed to say this:

“AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEELLLLPPPPPPPTAAAAAPPPPEEEEEEEEEONMYFOOOOOOOTNOOOOOOOOO!”

That was when the zooming began. Up and down the couch. In and out of rooms. Under and behind the tree. All with me chasing her, trying to catch her so I could remove the offending tape.

I’ll give her this: she’s not smart, but she’s quick.

I finally cornered her in the tub (I turned the water on and the siren song of running water distracted her from the horror of the scotch tape) and got it off of her foot. Then I turned around to turn off the tub and I heard it.

The crinkling that could only come from a cat rolling on wrapping paper.

I’ll be buying gift bags this weekend.