In a former life I was a petite and dainty lady with super slim fingers, I think. Not creepy long and skinny ones but the kind that look really nice with rings on and get hired for cream adverts (or whatever you hire lovely hands for). And in that life I was really well off due to all the adverts I was being hired for. So when I died, life was like “It’s not really fair if we give her teeny hands again next time around. I know, let’s give her THE BIGGEST LADY HANDS EVER instead”. And it’s because of this Karmatic (is that a thing?) Hand Justice that I nearly fell into The Sanguine Hole last night.
Yesterday I decided I would try to finish more things. My aim is to finish inventing a game that’s going to make me dollar dollar bills (as I said before), but last night I had this chapped lip thing going on and couldn’t think about anything other than the scales I was apparently developing on my mouth so thought I would start with something small and (supposedly) therapeutic.
My aunt gave me an Origami set for christmas. “Perfect”, I hear you cry. What can be more relaxing than just folding up some paper and turning it into wonderful things?
Well, you’re wrong.
I settled on making a Masu Box. It’s basically a box but called Masu because the first person to make one was called Mr. Masu (there’s a strong possibility this is not a fact).
It started out ok, a few foldings here and triangles there mixed with a couple of frustrated sighs because my fingers truly are quite large. Some more creases and corners meeting in the middle and 13 steps later, BAM. There’s a little box – I wouldn’t recommend trying to follow those instructions though. I was pretty impressed and showed it off to The German (aka my boyfriend) and asked him if he would like it for Valentine’s Day. He wasn’t overly enamoured by the idea, but I figured it was probably because it didn’t have a lid and who wants a box without a lid, right?
“It’s OK!”, I said, “I get it, it’s nothing without a top, but don’t panic dear for on the very next page of my instruction book is (you guessed it) the lid. PHEW!”. He sort of just ignored me and carried on watching whatever he was watching.
The lid started out similarly, except it wanted me to fold a sheet into thirds. How do you measure thirds without a ruler or anything? Honestly, it’s quite hard. So my piece of paper already had 5 re-done creases in it and my giant fingers couldn’t get the sides to line up straight so the folds were sort of off centre but it was ok. (Seriously, you need teeny tiny fingers for some of this stuff! I reckon Kermit The Frog would be ok, he’s got long slender green hand pins.)
Keep calm, I thought, it’s ok.
I plodded through the steps and got to the end of the page with just a square of folds in front of me. It did not resemble ANYTHING like a lid at this point.
So I turn the page over.
And it says “How to make a BOAT. It’s a fantastic origami model“.
“What the bloody naked snails?“, I exclaimed. “The world literally WANTS me to give up.”
Sanguine Me began to poke out it’s ugly head and have a tiny hissy fit at the unfairness of it all. I sulked and thought about writing a strongly worded letter because it would only be Mr. Masu’s fault if I fell into another bout of Down In The Dumps Syndrome.
But then The German, who had been quietly enduring my fit of frustration, found how to make it online and slipped me his phone.
I took a deep breath and decided I could complete my project after all and started watching a YouTube tutorial.
Now, seriously, have you ever tried to do something along with a video online? It’s physically impossible to keep up! I watched these dainty origami-hands make a fold and before I could get my hand sausages to crease my square in the right place, the video was finished and this guys hands were all “Hey, check out my box with a lid!“. Bastard.
I had to pause and rewind about 5million (!?) times before I got anywhere close to a functioning lid-type thing.
When I finally finished it, I was proud as pie. (Is that the saying? Proud as pie? As pudding? As peaches?). Anyway, I was pretty impressed and waved it under The German’s not-so-impressed nose. But how could he be impressed, he hadn’t seen the whole finished thing!
So I put the lid on the box.
Put the lid ON the box.
Put it ON.
I sat and stared and scratched my head dumbfounded as my precious lid that had caused me so much stress, but also pride, FELL INSIDE OF THE BOX.
Just fit right inside. Snug as a bug.
I mean, we were both kind of happy that I managed to complete it without throwing it in the bin during the giant finger debacle but it just feels like a metaphor for why I shouldn’t bother sometimes.
It’s like a new inspirational quote or something: “Do whatever you want because, in the end, your lid won’t fit anyway“. Bit morbid but I’ll take it.
We found a use for it anyway. It’s stuffed full of Haribo Gummi Bears with the lid sort of resting on top because The German likes it when they go hard so basically it was the perfect valentine’s gift for him in the end.
Take that, life.