I Just Have One Word For You, Son...
I think my mom has a bit of a plastics fetish. It seems that EVERYTHING has to be wrapped in the stuff. For years (decades?) our sofa was covering in a sheet of plastic. You knew that company was coming when the plastic was taken off. I think I was in college when on a visit from home I convinced her and dad to take the damn plastic off of the furniture. It must be Depression-era mentality that you have to take care of everything to make it last as long as possible (even at the expense of looking tacky and making a product user-unfriendly). I'm sitting in the living room right now as I type this and noticed that the plastic is still on the lampshades.
The plastic covering gets even worse when it comes to food. I guess she thinks that food will stay fresher if it's wrapped in a plastic store bag. Maybe it's her way of making every day like Christmas. Hmmmm. What was in this bag. It could be coffee cake! It could be meat! Let's open it up and see! Oh! It's a frozen dinner! I forgot I had bought that! So I went on a rampage and threw away every single plastic bag. Now she can see what she has in there. The most ancient thing I found was trout that a fisherman friend had given her...in 1997.
The final plastic adventure is trying to determine what we have stored in our attic. I want to get everything out of there so there is absolutely no reason for her to want to go up there. It has been a somewhat tedious process because, you guessed it, everything up there is wrapped in plastic.