This was exciting. I have this... this thing about branches.
I love them.
No, it's more than that. I ADORE them. I adore a good branch sitting on the ground. If I'm walking somewhere, and I see a nice branch, I can't just let it sit there. I have to "have" it.
I pick it up and continue my walk, savoring its branchishness; its stickishness; its natureishness-- if it's especially large, I drag it behind me on the ground. After a while, I feel satisfied, & I can set the branch back down and continue on my way.
|I found an extra special stick in while Japan-- bamboo driftwood! I carried that one for a looong time.|
(All of this leads me to believe I was a dog in a previous life. I just feel so happy when I've got an excellent stick.)
Sometimes, as was the case with the sticks I scored from the over-sized house event, I can find a use for the sticks. It's times like these I consider myself a "functioning" stickaholic:
There now. That's kind of nice, isn't it?
But other times, I lose the "functioning" part. Such as this King of All Sticks that I dragged onto our patio at 8am, barefoot & in my pajamas, no less than four months ago:
This, plus the awesome "Trick-or-Treat" mat = no solicitors. Good deal.
I will find a use for it.
(...Other than helping visitors find our apartment.)
(...And drying my suit between daily lifeguard lessons.)
Any other ideas for it, my wonderful and creative amigos??
Support my stick habit. Be enablers. It's okay.
P.S. Oh yeah, I guess I should answer the title of this post for you. It's just my favorite joke of all time, you know, NBD:
Q: What's brown and sticky?
A: a STICK!!!
favorite. joke. ever.