What is it about bubble wrap that brings out our inner child?  It seems to be somewhat addictive, somewhat mesmerizing, somewhat hard to resist.  A small piece of bubble wrap tends to turn any adult into a 5 year old popping wizard.  Some folks are annoyed at the Pop, Pop, Pop sound elicited from these bouts of frenzied popping.  Others can’t keep their hands off the bubble wrap and offer to help or ask for a piece for themselves.  My 4 year old grandson loves to stomp on it with bare feet. A friend of mine likes to twist a piece to get the most pops at one time.  I’m more of a purist; I mostly just pop one bubble at a time, slowly, rhythmically, hoping to make the piece of bubble wrap last as long as possible.

Yesterday was the last day of the Round Top Antiques market at our building.  After an exhausting day with everyone in a bit of a frenzy as the market came to an end and they were unable to find their holy grail; customers were getting discouraged and we were wishing it was over NOW.  As we started wrapping all the glassware and delicate items in our booth late yesterday afternoon, I found myself, heat exhausted, frustration kicking in, popping bubbles in the bubble wrap I was supposed to be using.  I knew we needed the bubble wrap to cushion these delicate items but it was too hard to resist and I didn’t care.  The gently rhythmic pop, pop, pop gave me a moment of meditation; a moment to ponder the repetitious noise created by something as simple and mundane as bubble wrap.

What do you do with bubble wrap?  Are you able to resist?



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