(no subject)
Jun. 24th, 2006 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeI've been meaning to put this up for quite a long time, but I kept forgetting about it.
Many months ago, I was skulking around Target. On a mission to buy cleaning supplies, I got side-tracked (as I am wont to do) in the candle section. Something shiny caught my eye, which is the plight of my existence-shiny things and their catching of my eye, and I immediately rushed over to pick it up.
It was a tall, glass candleholder, the kind in which it's a glass cylinder and the candle goes inside. Like a giant drinking glass. But, this one had a silver base. It also had a fancy, and quite heavy, silver lid. This would be perfect to put my unidentified bone in, for display in the living room! I thought to myself (and really, how many other people do you know who think thoughts like that?) and put it into my shopping cart with the floor cleaner and cat litter. There was a piece of paper inside of the candleholder, but I assumed it was just warnings about not leaving burning candles unattended or giving them to small children as toys or letting them drive your car after they had one too many drinks. It was inconsquential, I had a pretty candleholder thing to put a bone in and the world was at peace.
After I got home and put away everything else I'd bought, I pulled out the candleholder and decided on its new home in my living room. I pulled my unidentified bone from the shelf it had been placed before and removed the piece of paper, with all of its imagined, dire warnings, that had been nestled inside the candleholder. The bone went in the candleholder, the candleholder went on my end table and I admired my interior design skills and pondered a career change.
I opened the piece of paper, to give it a mindless glance over before I threw it out, and began laughing so hard that I had to sit down.
It was assembly instructions.
I'm planning on framing them and hanging them somewhere in the apartment, for the sheer surrealness of it all.
Many months ago, I was skulking around Target. On a mission to buy cleaning supplies, I got side-tracked (as I am wont to do) in the candle section. Something shiny caught my eye, which is the plight of my existence-shiny things and their catching of my eye, and I immediately rushed over to pick it up.
It was a tall, glass candleholder, the kind in which it's a glass cylinder and the candle goes inside. Like a giant drinking glass. But, this one had a silver base. It also had a fancy, and quite heavy, silver lid. This would be perfect to put my unidentified bone in, for display in the living room! I thought to myself (and really, how many other people do you know who think thoughts like that?) and put it into my shopping cart with the floor cleaner and cat litter. There was a piece of paper inside of the candleholder, but I assumed it was just warnings about not leaving burning candles unattended or giving them to small children as toys or letting them drive your car after they had one too many drinks. It was inconsquential, I had a pretty candleholder thing to put a bone in and the world was at peace.
After I got home and put away everything else I'd bought, I pulled out the candleholder and decided on its new home in my living room. I pulled my unidentified bone from the shelf it had been placed before and removed the piece of paper, with all of its imagined, dire warnings, that had been nestled inside the candleholder. The bone went in the candleholder, the candleholder went on my end table and I admired my interior design skills and pondered a career change.
I opened the piece of paper, to give it a mindless glance over before I threw it out, and began laughing so hard that I had to sit down.
It was assembly instructions.
I'm planning on framing them and hanging them somewhere in the apartment, for the sheer surrealness of it all.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-27 09:52 pm (UTC)Sounds good to me.
You can take the PATCO to the Ashland stop, that's directly across the street from my office. I'd recommend meeting me there at 4:30, because traffic can get icky around that time, especially going in the direction of the vet's office.
And so you know which car is me, I drive a big, black Eldorado. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-27 09:59 pm (UTC)I'll be the vaguely asian-looking fellow with a goatee and a ferret in a hard carrier.