For quite some time now I’ve been looking for the perfect Sherbert S.
The one at Pier One, too flimsy.
The one at Anthropologie, too artsy & askew.
The one at Pottery Barn, too trendy, although quite nice.
Finally, on Friday, I stumbled into Urban Outfitters and it was a mecca of Ss–all letters really.
Which is good because Sherb’s grandma, a speech therapist, insists I can’t just hang an S on my wall and be done with it.
No, Shhhhher-bert, requires the “sh” sound, so I must have a Sherbert S and a Sherbert H.
It’s only right.
It’s only just.
…to be continued…