I learned something tonight. Something that I didn’t know about Jackson, even after 8 years of legally sanctioned co-habitation.
He wraps gifts just like my dad. And that drives me nuts.
I’m not much of a perfectionist when it comes to wrapping the Christmas presents, but I do have some standards.
1. The wrapping paper should not be used.
2. Items in gift bags should be concealed with tissue paper.
3. Gift bags should not be stapled or taped closed.
4. Designation of the giftee is generally not best accomplished by writing their initials
on the front of the bag in black ball point pen.
Jackson and my father do not seem to be burdened with any standards at all when it comes to gift wrapping. “Just cover it” is their motto.
Jackson claims I’m making fun of his madd skillz as a gift wrapper because I’m ticked off at myself for missing a chance to ogle my presents. We were both sitting on the bed, doing the wrapping and he claims to have wrapped several of my presents, right under my nose; even opening boxes to remove receipts right in front of me. I contend I was merely focused on the job at hand and concentrating on making the gifts that I wrapped look somewhat presentable, rather than constantly looking over his shoulder trying to see what he was doing.
He’s probably lying, anyway.
We don’t have any gifts under the tree. Zoe, the Toothy Wonder Dog, would be only too thrilled to critique our wrapping styles. Unfortunately, she has no thumbs, so she has to chew things in order to evaluate them. That presents a bit of a problem. So, we spread the tree skirt on the dining room table and piled up all the gifts in the middle. Jackson is whining about the non-traditionalism of this arrangement . I don’t really care and Evil Steve is thrilled. She’s excited about lounging on the tree skirt while remaining out of reach of Zoe, the Dog Who Wasn’t Supposed to be a Terrier.
Jackson says I should tell you that I’m just jealous because I am the only person in the immediate family who doesn’t get 2 weeks off for Christmas. I most certainly am not jealous, so I see no need to bore you with that. Can I help it that my glamour job doesn’t just stop for the 12 days of rampant consumerism and culinary over-indulgence? Bah.
My sister-in-law is an elementary school teacher and Jackson and Jonboy both work in the same mortuary of an office building at Fake Cow Ecumenical University. Somebody at the university did the math a few years ago and discovered it cost the school more money to heat and light the buildings for a skeleton crew of staff over the two week period than it would cost them if they just closed down completely. So now they get two weeks off, too. Bah.
Fortunately, Jackson promises to do lots of stuff like carpet cleaning and deck staining while he’s off work. That curbs my non-existent jealousy rather nicely.
That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway…