It’s the thought that ... oh, I don’t care

Of the many things I catastrophically suck at — remembering names, canceling no-longer-needed insurance policies, winning over Bitch Kitty outside the context of her pathological desperation for cat treats — wrapping presents is the one I care the least about.

To wit (to Mom, actually): I just (poorly) (because I don’t care) wrapped this gift using paper saved from a long-ago gift (because I’m responsible!) only to notice after I was done that the long-ago gift label was now wrapping awkwardly around the edge (because I’m not observant!) (because I don’t care!) of this new gift, so I did what any other not-caring person would do in this situation: I scribbled over the old gift label with a red sharpie and then slapped a new gift label over the part of the old label that was still on the top part of the new gift. Then, since the new label was now in a place that would make no sense to put a bow (and because I don’t care!), I just found a scrap of knotted elastic, stretched it (not even remotely artfully) around the box and rushed back to watching car-crash videos in click-trap perpetuity on YouTube.

But that’s the price my dad pays for having me wrap his presents for him because he’s blind. Symbiotically, because he’s blind he has no way of knowing (or caring!) how ugly it is. (And I don’t care!)