The Magical Package

It's not a big secret that I'm really, really awful at opening packages. It doesn't matter what kind - I'm bad at all of them. Chip bags? Not happening. Those little plastic bags with Happy Meal toys? No way. But the kinds that are most impossible of all are the cardboard ones, of the sort FedEx or UPS would deliver.

A few days ago, I was lucky enough to receive a cardboard box with the promising return address of a well-known publisher. (Just what this publisher was, I shall leave for the next IMM post.) Needless to say, I was quite happy, if you define "quite happy" as jumping around and squealing, I MEAN, making professional noises of excitement. (The excitement of getting books never wears off.)

There was just one problem: I couldn't open it.

I tried everything. Clawing at it with my fingers, hacking at the duct tape with scissors, even yelling at it. None of these promising tactics worked. And so I concluded, this must not be an ordinary package.

No, this, bloggy friends, was a MAGICAL package.

I leaned back and appraised it. If it was magical, then I would have to use different strategies to attempt to open it. The usual curse-at-it-until-my-face-turns-blue wouldn't do anything, nor would stabbing it with my pencil.

I would have to use magic.

First, I set off in search of a wand. After all, every wielder-of-cool-magical-powers needs a cool magical wand. Unfortunately, there weren't a great many of them exactly lying around, so I settled for my light saber. Hey, at least it glowed.

Next, I needed a spell book, something that would provide a lot of fancy words to say to open the box. My personal library was quite small, though, so I ended up using my nanotechnology textbook instead. That had tons of fancy words.

Finally, it was time to cast the spell. I put on my cowgirl hat (no witch hats were around), waved my saber in the air, and intoned, "Molecular orbitals. Free electrons. Spectra. Electromagnetic waves."

I continued on like this for a while, but the package didn't open. Somewhere in the middle, my dad walked in, raised an eyebrow, and slid the scissors across the cardboard in one clean motion. The package burst open.

Now, some might say it was my dad who opened it, but I know better.

'Twas the magic.