I'm sick.

Look, I don't believe in histrionic exaggerations or falsely causing alarm — especially around the holidays — but I really do think I have a medical problem. Let's call it recyclo-paper-itis. And today my ailment hit a new low.

When I was growing up, my family did not believe in spending money on wrapping paper and gift bags, because it resulted in less being spent on the gifts proper. We may not always have been the best at recycling our cans and bottles, but we had our black belts in recycling wrapping paper and gift bags. Not to brag, but we're pretty much ninja-level. Great caution was always taken by my family members when unwrapping a present to preserve the integrity of the paper. There is an art to this.

It was not uncommon that under the Christmas tree, my brother and I would find presents wrapped in baby shower paper, "congratulations, graduate" paper and occasionally the "over the hill" gift bag. Even Santa Claus would get into the act, leaving presents under the tree wrapped in "happy birthday" paper. Perhaps the paper was left over from baby Jesus?

But my children will not have this hodgepodge of paper under the tree. Not because I have alienated the recycling tactics of my upbringing. Oh, no. It's because I was out of paper. My son is now 3, and he went to so many birthday parties this year that we are out of repurposed holiday, anniversary and even birthday paper and gift bags. So this morning, against my morals, I went out and bought a roll of wrapping paper — my first in years.

But after I had wrapped 90 percent of my holiday gifts, something was wrong. My pile of presents looked ... monochromatic. I'm used to seeing many different colors and designs under the tree. Sure, they were promoting different holidays, but it always looked festive and fun. Now my pile was nothing but cold blue dotted by snowmen. I missed it. I missed the recycled paper. I missed the way it looked under the tree. But I had used up all of the salvaged wrappings in toddler birthday parties. Nothing could be done. And then there was a knock at the door.

A package had been left on my doorstep — a package of See's Candies wrapped in beautiful red wrapping paper. Sure, it said "See's" all over it, but who's really looking? My whole life had been leading to this moment. I carefully removed the tape. The integrity of the paper was intact. I cut the paper and used it to wrap up a pair of sunglasses, a dinosaur and a Blu-ray Disc. It added the perfect pop of red to my sea of blue. But I needed another fix. The color can't stop here. It mustn't!

My eyes locked with the gold-scribbled chocolate box. It would be the perfect packaging for the jewelry I bought my mom. A gorgeous addition of unexpected color under the tree. There was only one hurdle keeping me from my recycled destiny: gooey, sticky, nutty chocolates.

A reasonable person would have just dumped the chocolates in a zip-lock bag. But a reasonable person also wouldn't be repurposing candy packaging. I was manic and on a mission.

The chocolates had to be destroyed. They had to be devoured.

Very few things in life give me anxiety like a box of assorted chocolates. See's Candies is a total misnomer. Not only can I not see what is inside the morsel but also there's not even a cheat sheet. I hate not knowing what is inside. What if I took a bite of the dreaded coconut-filled? My taste buds would never forgive me.

I considered reverting back to my youth, when I would stick my pinkie into the bottom of the chocolates to see what was hiding inside and then would put it back in the box if I didn't like it. Time was ticking before my son would be home from preschool, and I wasn't thinking clearly. There was no time to be picky. I needed the box, and I needed it now. I shoved all of the chocolates in my mouth.

I don't even really like chocolate.

And as I looked at the presents under my tree — the blue snowman paper, the red See's paper, the white See's box — I thought to myself, "Wow, I really have a problem. And a tummy ache."

Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.