I’ve had these Star Wars collector pins for a while now. And I got it in my head to get a shadowbox to display them in, as opposed to having them just sitting on a shelf. Then I got it out of my head, back in, out one more time, then in again. Long story short, I finally got a shadowbox about two months after getting the idea in the first place. That’s how my head works sometimes.
I figured it would just be a simple matter of poking the pins into the backing, sealing it up and hanging it on the wall. And in a just and fair world, that would have been the case. This world is neither. And so I couldn’t get the pins lined up evenly on the backing. When I did, they’d fall out as soon as I sat it up straight. Then the backing wouldn’t go in correctly. Then trying to tap it back in, the pins fell out again. Then I may have suggested that not only did an inanimate object have a mother, but that it also had done some morally reprehensible things to her. And finally, by some cosmic miracle, I got everything the way I wanted.
And so it sat on my coffee table for another month. Again, the way the head works. But last night I finally got motivated to hang it up, along with the five small prints I got the same time as the pins. I was a damn Martha Stewart at this point. To my great surprise, I got everything hung up on the walls relatively straight and centered and with a bare minimum of claims of maternal carnal knowledge. I was most pleased with myself, and when I got home this afternoon, I was greeted by my handiwork and felt like I’d made this place a little more homey.
About half an hour ago, the shadowbox, for no discernible reason, fell off the wall. And all the pins fell out.
I hope its mother wasn’t listening.