Untitled, by Rookuzz
I went face-to-face this weekend with the single most evil thing in the face of parenting and humanity. The thing that makes you come face-to-face with your faults and imperfections, which reminds you that you are undeserving to even be taking up space in the room in which you are currently standing. The thing that tests you to your human limits.
When I die, if I end up in hell, my particular level will have me wrangling this thing 24 hours a day.
It answers to a few different names. Saran wrap. Cling wrap. Plastic wrap.
By any name, I hate you, you translucent sticky nightmare. Why do you torment me so?
In commercials and my dreams, beautiful mothers who have All Their Sh*t Together gracefully pull out the perfect amount of cling wrap from its container and beautifully and easily cover their recently homemade chicken casserole and pumpkin pie before pirouetting off to fold the freshly washed clothes that they didn’t forget in the washer for two weeks.
But in real life.
Oh in real life. Here’s how it plays out for me:
Round one, I pull out what seems to be the perfect size but it immediately folds in on itself and suctions to itself and me and the counter. I clumsily dance around the kitchen in a desperate attempt to escape the wrap that won’t stop sticking to me. In frustration, I throw the first bit away, which is a useless crumpled ball anyway. Round two, I slice my finger wide open on the jagged stupid edges meant to allow us to cut that perfect piece, so spend some time finding a bandaid and cursing and throwing that bloody bit of cling wrap away. Round three, I pull off the perfect piece by balancing my leg against the counter and tugging against my thigh onto my arm. I get it to the thing I’m trying to cover, which is wilting in the fresh air by now, and it only covers like a third of it and also doesn’t actually cling. Round four, I tug out whatever will come and fling it over the plate because I don’t even care and hate my life. Round five, I’ve hurled the box of cling wrap across the room and poured myself a glass of wine. Round six, I go to the store and buy whatever stupid homemade thing I was trying to make in the first place.
Cling wrap makes me feel like a failure. I’m clearly a terrible mom and human.
And this has me thinking. Why do we keep things like cling wrap in our life?
I could use aluminum foil or a Tupperware container or a giant Ziploc bag or just buy the thing from the store in the first place, you know? I have options that don’t hate me.
We sometimes choose the hard thing, just because it seems like the thing we are supposed to do, when in reality there are lots of easier solutions all around us.
If you figure this particular puzzle out, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll just be over here just avoiding things that need covering.
How can you find an easier solution today?
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