I have a sickness. It’s called “wreaths”. I mean really, who needs wreaths? They only sit around, collect dust on your walls and make your house LOOK FABULOUS!
You know who else loves wreaths? My Mom, that’s who. The fact I love wreaths now is funny, as when I was a child I would HATE going to the store to look for wreath bits. One of those “I hate this so much, I’m just gonna lay in the middle of the aisle making moaning noises” type of things. I’m sure there is some sort of poetic justice brewing here.
My wreath addiction has gotten so bad that I now want to make wreaths for my head. FOR MY HEAD! WHAT? I know. But look at this cool stuff I have to make wreaths for my head? Who needs a hat when you got some twigs and a little stuffed polar bear??
It’s a sickness.