I was never one to follow trends in home decor, but there it was, beckoning to me from the window of an impossibly hip boutique - a ceramic flower that looked like it had mated with a sea urchin and produced something devastatingly chic. The petals, if you could call them that, jutted out at angles that would make a geometry teacher weep with joy, all in a shade of purple that brought to mind those fancy French macarons my sister is always raving about. "It's perfect," I whispered, pressing my nose against the glass like a kid outside a candy store. The saleswoman inside probably thought I was having some sort of episode, but I didn't care. I'd spent three years staring at a blank wall in my apartment, making endless excuses about waiting for the "right piece" while my mother helpfully suggested family photos and my boyfriend recommended vintage movie posters. But this flower - this glorious, spiky creation - had something none of the others did: a keyhole mount on the back that practically screamed, "I've solved all your commitment issues about putting holes in the wall!" It was like the universe had finally designed wall art specifically for the chronically indecisive.