I didn’t intend for it to become a family heirloom. But it’s been a part of our family forever—at least it feels that way—and I need to be transparent about it.

Forget the “But if I get rid of it, what if I need it?” conundrum. I know I’ll need it. It works quite well. But it’s just so…clingy.

I do not say this flippantly, but factually: it’s dangerously close to lasting longer than my 26-year marriage. 

The debacle started innocently enough. When asked if I needed anything at the store, I uttered the words that still haunt me all these years later.

“Could you please pick up plastic wrap?” 

Little did I know the requested item would be procured at a big-box warehouse store instead of our neighborhood King Soopers.

It’s 3,000 feet. A mile is 5,280 feet. So I have more than a half-mile of the stuff—the equivalent of 30 “normal” rolls. Regular Saran Wrap, like you probably own, is a dainty 100 square feet.  

If I ate most meals out, then it would make sense why I still have a mammoth roll, but I do cook regularly. The Roll has covered casseroles, desserts, old standbys, new concoctions and containers of leftovers when the lid goes MIA. I also don’t reuse or recycle it (does anyone?), and I desperately want to reduce it.

The packaging is a hideously garish combo of turquoise and orange (sorry, Miami Dolphins fans), so it’s hidden away, relegated to the under-oven drawer, where it takes up a chunky hunk of space. That’s where it has stubbornly stayed all these years—out of sight but never out of mind. It was either that or throw a tablecloth over it and plop a vase of flowers on top. Voila! An end table.

Though the writing on the box is faded, it seems it was a Y2K purchase. It’s older than my 22-year-old.

If only it were as useful as, say, duct tape, which can be used to hem clothing, repair a tent or even make a wallet. I found a list online, but nothing really jumped out at me. Harkening back to the mid-’70s and “The Total Woman,” author Marabel Morgan had a creative use for Saran Wrap. If you know, you know.

Polyvinylidene chloride, or Saran Wrap, was discovered by accident in 1933 by Ralph M. Wiley. Unlike cling films like Saran Wrap, that rely on static electricity to stick to surfaces, “Press ’n Seal” film, plastic wrap’s trendier and user-friendly cousin, was invented in 2003, just a few years after The Roll moved in. It works due to a food grade contact adhesive, with thousands of mini dimples embossed into the plastic. But I’m stuck with the first-generation original. I wouldn’t dream of buying Press ’n Seal. That would only extend The Roll’s lifespan even further.

From time to time, I peek at the end to see if the diameter has diminished. It never seems to budge. Like the scarf in a magician’s hat, there is an endless supply, no matter how generously I tear off pieces. 

After all this time, I may have forgotten what it’s like to buy plastic wrap. I can only dream of a slim little roll taking up barely any room, nestled neatly between the foil and the waxed paper. 

Food film. It’s a flexible window to my family history. I fear it will outlive me and I’ll have to add it to my last will and testament. But I don’t want my children to fight…

Over who gets stuck with it.