I never thought I'd find myself in a heated debate over what to hang on a wall, but here I was, locked in a battle of wills with my sister. She was advocating for a neon sign that read "Bless this mess" while I championed the cause of a ceramic wall flower. "It's modern artwork," I insisted, waving my arms like a deranged orchestra conductor. Wall art decor for the discerning hoarder! The flower in question was a medium-sized beauty, its petals a soft mint that reminded me of the time I accidentally ate an entire pack of dental floss, thinking it was some fancy European candy. The tips were a rich chocolate brown, as if the flower had been dipped in fondue by a very precise, albeit confused, chocolatier. "It looks like something a mermaid would wear to a funeral," she mused, her head tilted in consideration. I took that as a compliment. After all, mermaid funeral attire was surely the height of underwater fashion. As we stood there, contemplating this piece of glorified pottery, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Here we were, two grown adults, seriously debating the merits of hanging a mint-and-chocolate ceramic flower on a wall. If this wasn't a sign of achieving peak adulthood, I didn't know what was.