Everything I bought my wife for Christmas had to be returned. Wrong size, wrong color, too expensive, too cheap. You name it, I blew it. On the other hand, I am keeping everything she got for me. Not because my wife has such exquisite taste (although she does), but because I totally destroyed the boxes when I opened the gifts.
Generally, I am not good at opening things. The one exception is carry-out pizza boxes. But closing the pizza boxes? No way. Where do those flaps go? Inside? Outside?
Here are several things I have trouble with:
OPENING A PACKAGE OF MEAT: Or cheese, or a bag of pretzels, or anything that says EASY OPEN or TEAR HERE. I usually tear NEAR THERE, which doesn’t cut it. Actually, that’s exactly what I end up having to do. I cut the bag with a pair of scissors and put everything in a Ziploc bag. (Which, by the way, I am not very good at closing, either.)
OPENING REMARKS: At local charity events, I am often asked to make opening remarks to thank everyone for coming, for being so generous, and in some cases for braving the bad weather. Over the years, this got kind of boring so I started making the closing remarks, instead. I say the exactly same things. But it’s too late to matter
OPENING A NEW ACCOUNT: Do I use Dick or Richard? Should I include my middle name? Do I put dashes in my Social Security number? What is the difference between my account number and my routing number? Yes, I know my favorite cartoon character right now, but will I remember it’s Donald Duck after two Bloody Marys?
OPENING MY FRONT DOOR: Usually, when we get home for the evening, I fiddle with the lock and my wife asks, “Are you sure that’s the right key?” Once when I took too much cold medicine by mistake, it wasn’t the wrong key: it was the wrong house.