I’ve had an empty container hanging on my wall for three months, waiting for me to be inspired and figure out how to use it in my attempts at decorating. I finally found something looking like this:
at the local craft store. It was $10. It’s a bunch of sticks! We have five acres, surely my dear exploring son has an in as to where he can find me some similar sticks for free. Surely.
Yesterday, with the admonishment that they must be as long as his arm and no fatter than his thumb, he set out. He came back, minutes later, with this:
I’m not even quite sure what to say. It’s not quite what I was going for. When I asked about thinner, longer sticks, he informed me there weren’t any. Five acres, much wooded, hundreds of trees, and no sticks. Wow.
Turns out, my $10 bunch of sticks at the store is on 50% off this week. I may be paying for sticks, my friends, because empty was better than this.
In doing so, I may break my dear son’s heart. He thinks they’re beautiful. If you come over and see the sticks on the wall… now you know why. I’m not sure I have the heart to tell him it’s not what I had in mind.