There was a package waiting for me yesterday when I got home.
I am under strict orders from Himself to NOT open any package that arrives from Amazon.
But this package was not from Amazon, it was a package from a friend who had sent me something nice.
Like, the thing that threatens to edge out my husband and children for favorite things in the world status, nice.
And after sushi and buying the Christmas tree (the fresh, live, needle-shedding, sap-sticking but lovely-smelling tree), I decided I deserved to eat a wee bit of this gift my lovely friend sent me.
I opened the outer wrapper.
Easy enough. No thought involved, I was probably even reading an email as I did it.
I doubt I was even paying attention when I got to the inner wrapper.
Why should I?
It’s not like I haven’t unwrapped nineteen-trillion bars of chocolate in my life already. I am a pro. I can do this with my eyes closed. I can probably do it with my hands tied behind my back while singing “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.”
This is one of my skillz, people. One of my mad skillz.
But after a few seconds of tugging I realized that the inner wrapper was not willingly submitting.
I did not yet have any exposed chocolate and it had easily been ten or twelve seconds by that point.
I looked down at the chocolate bar, confused, off-balance. Staring at the still-wrapped confection as if it had suddenly turned into a sea-cucumber in my hands.
I looked more closely.
There was…writing on the wrapper.
Ah, there’s a sweet spot where I should tear. Ok, that’s new. I’ve never needed instructions to open chocolate before, but there’s a first time for everything. My confidence is only moderately shaken, I’ll recover.
It’s chocolate for heaven’s sake. And ME.
I start tugging where the instructions on the wrapper tell me to.
Then I tug again.
And tug MORE.
Then I YANK! And PULL!
After after a mini-wrestling match where I don’t even have the benefit of wearing tights and purple leather bustier, I am no closer to the chocolate than I was before seeing the instructions!
I know my friend did not intend to do this to me!
She is lovely beyond words, and knows me fairly well, and would not ever, ever, take some perverse glee in my frantic struggles with a piece of plastic wrap clearly designed by NASA to coat the space shuttle in for atmospheric re-entry that is trying to stand between me and CHOCOLATE.
I was weeping by this point. My professional status in jeopardy, I could hear the pundits in my head gloating over my fall from grace. “Pride goeth before a fall,” says one talking head. “She knew she was playing with fire, letting her training slip with grocery store candy,” says another.
But I still have one trick up my sleeve.
Know what else I have?
It wasn’t pretty. I’m not proud.
But at the end of the battle, the chocolate was mine.
Victory is so, so sweet.