It’s just like Santa’s workshop except it smells like mushrooms and everybody looks like they want to hurt me.

My apartment looks like Christmas threw up inside of it.

And not in a good way.

I’ve had my presents bought for some time now. I picked up the last present on Sunday, where I had the following conversation with the sales associate:

her: Would you like a gift receipt?
me: Oh yes please. She will be returning both of these items promptly when the stores open on the day after Christmas.
her: Oh, are you not sure about the sizes? Let’s see if we can look them up on the computer…
me: no, they are the correct sizes, but she returns everything. Shopping is a sport for her. In high school she lettered in returning things.
her: Oh, but they’re great, and they’ll look great together (insert more reassuring rambling here)
me: yes, I know. But she will return them. Trust me.

It was at that point I was wondering why I was even continuing this conversation with the sales lady, as she had moved on to tell me some story about a customer and jeans and something else that sounded an awful lot like Charlie Brown’s teacher.

So, all that to say my apartment has Christmas presents strewn about haphazardly and wrapping paper everywhere and some glittery snowflakes and let’s not even get started talking about the mess on my dining room table that is the December Daily carnage.

My goal tonight was a simple one: get the presents wrapped. I almost accomplished that goal. Almost. There are about three items that I’m not sure how to wrap. I have some ideas, but those things don’t always work out for me. As it is, I’m having a hard enough time wrapping presents on the coffee table with the centerpiece and the stocking mount that’s not quite finished because something else isn’t working out.

I do find a bit of peace in wrapping presents. Neatly wrapped boxes, tied with beautiful tulle and, this year, each with a sweet little glittery snowflake attached to it. The names are neatly spelled out or initialed on the paper with cute little scrapbook stickers, very modernly.

Except for one. One present that prompted me to get up from my perch on the couch and blog about the experience. Because this present, it’s for my Kells Bells, and I have another one for my Katybug. But this present is not in a neat little box. It’s not square or rectangular or even octagonal.

It’s flat on one side and mushy on the other. And now, it looks like a small woodland creature tried to wrap it with one paw tied behind it’s tiny little rabies-infested back.

Y’all. There is not enough tulle in the world to make this present look pretty. Even the snowflake is sitting a little caddywhompus to the bow, just begging to melt into a puddle to be licked up by my three legged dog with four legs.

And now I have to go wrap the same present again for her sister.

I think I’m gonna need more tulle.