Cellophane: (n) a thin transparent wrapping material made from viscose.
I love cellophane. Not intimately, but certainly personally.
I have two complaints. (It is very American of me to lead with the fact that I love something and then quickly explain why it also annoys the hell out of me.)
So doing my duty for God and country, I will tell you that cellophane sometimes gets too attached. You try to remove it from a package or unwrap something and it clings to your hand.
The first instinct is to reach over and remove it with your other hand–but then it clings to that hand. So you end up shaking your paw in the air to dislodge yourself from the sticky situation, resembling an exercise one might do to alleviate stress.
“Don’t cling to me, baby. I’m no good for you.”
It won’t listen.
Secondly, there are times it refuses to cling. I have lined up a whole series of sandwiches, preparing to wrap them up, only to discover when I finished, and it was time to put the last fold down, it would not stick to itself–popping up in the air to mock my efforts. So then that side of the sandwich has to be carefully placed on the bottom of the cooler, to make it look like the sandwiches are well-wrapped (when you know in your heart they aren’t.)
And then when you arrive at the family picnic, someone always says, “Who wrapped this sandwich?”
They are fully aware of which cooler they took the sandwich from–it’s just a way of humiliating you.
So even though I do love cellophane, I certainly have my beefs against it.
Maybe someday we will work out our differences. And then I will be happy.
And it will be a Glad Wrap.