Although I'm supposed to work until 7, I'd planned to leave a bit early to get things done. Naturally that didn't work out, due to some problems which came up last-minute.
It was 7:08 when I left the office parking lot. I sped home, making excellent time, and arrived around 7:20. Rushing into the house, I slammed the door and started taking off clothes as I headed for the bathroom. I relieved myself while completing undressing, then hurried upstairs. I leaped into my speedskating clothes, went back downstairs, put my sneakers on, grabbed the 3 small gifts I'd bought my dad, ran into the den, grabbed scissors and tape, and started sprinting down the stairs to my basement (where I keep my wrapping paper).
I suddenly had a vision of my foot catching on a step, and the scissors impaling my stomach as I tumbled headfirst down the stairs. Oh, so this is why we're not supposed to run with them! I didn't actually slow down, but I did turn the point them away from my body and handled them with extra care.
Fortunately I made it safely to the basement. There was then a frenzy of ripping paper as I removed price tags, sloppily cut the Christmas wrapping paper (it was the first paper that caught my eye) into misshapen rectangles, tore off hunks of tape, and did possibly the ugliest wrapping job I've ever seen.
The gifts festively covered, I loaded up my arms and dashed back up the stairs two at a time. I picked up a package of gel-socks, which I had promised to bring to a fellow speedskater weeks ago. I kept the scissors, in case he wanted to cut the gel-socks. I remembered how cold it was outside, and I picked up my furry jacket. I slung my bag over my shoulder and held my keys ready.
I attempted to stack the three wrapped gifts in my left arm while I opened and locked the door with my right hand, still holding keys, bag, gel-socks, scissors. I dropped one gift, picked it up, dropped another. Things were sliding everywhere. Those buggers are slippery when wrapped! Nothing was breakable though, and eventually I managed to maneuver all that stuff to my car, where I dumped everything onto the passenger seat.
I took what I'd hoped would be a fast route to my parents' house, but it turned out agonizingly slow (but then at this point, anything short of light-speed would have felt the same). Mentally I yelled at the cars in front of me, "Move it, move it, do I look like I have this kind of time?!"
Finally, I roared up the street and into their driveway. It was 7:46. Everybody was waiting for me, but they didn't seem too upset... and the celebration was a good one. Once I caught my breath.