I have a veritable boatload of Christmas wrapping paper left over. I don’t know why I bought so much. I wasn’t wrapping a Lexus.
I have three huge, barely used rolls of paper clunking around my tiny apartment right now. In classic “me” fashion, I opened all the different packages and used a little bit of each design, so I can’t return any of them. Now these tubular paper beasts haunt me everywhere I turn.
If you’re thinking I should just shove them in the back of the closet with the rest of the “Christmas stuff” and use them next year, then I envy your naiveté. I live in an apartment half the size of a 7-11 with my husband, three cats and a dog. There is no “back of my closet”. The back of my closet is where the third cat lives. If I try to store stuff back there, she charges me rent.
There’s no place else to store it. Plus, Cat #1 has been eating it in the middle of the night and throwing it up because I don’t have it stored in a secure location.
I hate wasting money, but I have to throw it away, which makes me feel like I’m crumpling up cash and throwing it in the garbage. But what’s the alternative? Cramming three giant rolls of wrapping paper behind the couch for a year? Renting a separate storage facility? Or should I just leave Christmas wrapping paper propped up against my desk for the next 12 months as penance for my impulsive overspending? I’m guessing it’ll take about three weeks before I go clinically insane from the bad Feng Shui and attack my husband with the one covered in happy Santas.
I want to be a better person in 2012—less wasteful, more practical, and better with my money. But for this year, it’s totally too late. I have three cats and a dog. I can’t take in three giant tubes of wrapping paper, even on a foster care basis.
Sorry, leftover Christmas wrapping paper. You’ll never get to fulfill your destiny of getting wrapped around something and then being joyfully ripped to shreds. I really screwed this up to a level of existential proportions.
Featured image via oldtimepottery.com