I’m in a flap with my plastic wrap | Lisa Scottoline

You've heard the expression that somebody can't fight their way out of a paper bag.

I can't fight my way out of a box of Saran Wrap.

First, let me define my terms.

I'm not dissing Saran Wrap, which I used to think was a made-up word until I looked it up online and found out that it means:

"A thermoplastic copolymer of vinylidene chloride and usually small amounts of vinyl chloride or acrylonite; used as a fiber for packaging and for making acid resistant pipe."

Wow.

Anyway, who cares?

But let's call it plastic wrap.

Which is catchier than thermoplastic polymer wrap.

In fact, the plastic wrap that I'm having a hard time with is made by Glad.

And I'm not dissing Glad, either.

But guess who's not glad.

Me.

Bottom line, I cannot figure out how to get the plastic wrap out of the box.

You probably can.

You might be thinking right now, Boy, is she dumb.

And you might be right.

If you know the secret to Saran, please let me know.

But if you are, like me, one of the millions of Saran Sufferers, then let's work it out right now.

The bottom line is that I'm supposed to be able to unroll the plastic wrap easily, then tear off the amount I want off by using the metal strip on the side of the box.

This doesn't work, for me.

My box says that it Clings Tight Without A Fight.

But it's fighting me.

And it's winning.

I open the lid and try to tear it off properly, but it doesn't cut on the metal edge.

So I have to tear it off with both hands in some weird little strip, or stretch it really tight until it finally breaks, or, if I'm being good, I get a pair of scissors and I cut it off.

At first, I thought I had the wrong kind of wrap.

I got the Cling Wrap, but I couldn't work that, either.

I got the Press'n Seal, but I couldn't work that, either.

I would try and try, so much so that the box would become deformed, which would make the metal edge even more ineffective.

That made me think my problem was that I was getting too-big boxes.  For example, I was buying a box that held 400 square feet of Cling Wrap.  I'm guessing that would take me approximately a decade to use up.

You could wrap the entire house with that much Cling Wrap.

Or your waist when you worked out.

(I tried that once. That didn't work, either.)

But to return to the point, after three years, my 400-square-foot box of Cling Wrap fell apart.

The cardboard sides came unglued.

And so did I.

Plus, the lid turned into a flap.

I'm in a flap with my plastic wrap.

Then I figured that it was because I was getting plastic wrap in too great a quantity, which put too much wear and tear on the box over time.

Hey, that's a good name for plastic wrap, isn't it?

Wear'n Tear.

Or maybe Wear'n Throw It Across The Room.

Because that's how I feel about my plastic wrap.

So I started buying 240 square feet of plastic wrap, but I still couldn't get the metal teeth to work.

Even though the box stayed strong, I did not.

I went down to 70 square feet, but that didn't work, either.

So you know what I do now?

I wrap everything in paper towels.

I'm not even kidding.

Francesca came home and looked astonished at a refrigerator full of half-tomatoes, half-avocados, and half-onions, all wrapped in white paper towels.

She said, "Mom, you can't keep things fresh wrapped in paper towels."

I told her the truth.

My truth.

It's not a paper towel — it's a flag of surrender.

Look for Lisa and Francesca's new humor collection, "I See Life Through Rosé-Colored Glasses," and Lisa's number-one best-selling domestic thriller, "After Anna" and her new Rosato & DiNunzio novel, "Feared," in stores now. lisa@scottoline.com.