Being a muse is my profession. Sure, I have other hobbies (law, Chinese, culinary escapades), but “musing” is what I do. This means that I spend approximately half of my time dreaming up crazy ideas and the other half trying to convince my husband that those ideas aren’t actually crazy (for example, marrying me, totally not crazy.) He’s usually a pretty easy sell, which is how we ended up with a worm composter on our wedding registry.
I was periodically checking the registry, officially, because I needed to update the registry so people didn’t accidentally buy us nine toasters. But, unofficially, who am I kidding? Who doesn’t want to peek into each and every box as they arrive? When I saw someone had purchased the worm composter, I was ecstatic. My vermicomposting aspirations were on the cusp of realization. So imagine my dismay when the worm composter didn’t show up in the mail, didn’t show up at the wedding, didn’t show up after the wedding. What the H-E double hockey sticks? Was this some kind of cruel joke? Surely not. I called Amazon. Amazon told me that worm composter had been shipped; in fact, it had arrived. Was it stolen? Who would steal a worm composter? I asked them what the shipping address was. They said, “123 No Street, Nowhere, California.” Wait…what?!
We didn’t live in California; we lived in South Carolina. Apparently, our generous vermicomposter benefactors had shipped the composter to themselves. At this point, we were completely confused. Did they accidentally screw up the shipping address? Did they buy themselves a gift off of our registry? We left it be, but then, one day, a big box arrived in the mail. There was the worm composter in all of its technicolor glory! Literally. It was covered in brightly-colored, glittering, holographic stickers of worms, bugs, Disney princesses and little sparkly hearts with these words:
Love Marriage Worms
Absurd. Fitting. Deep. Truer words were never spoken.
Life is absurd. Let’s have fun with it!
The worm keeper