Straw becomes gold.

I imagine that it's much sexier to be a widow than a spinster.

If I was a widow, I'd wear thick, sweet perfume and wander around in darkened rooms clad only in black lingerie.



I actually got engaged this summer. Since Jacob wants to die a tragic death, and I want to become a widow, we've agreed to get married. The ceremony will take place in Tahiti (the purpose of the wedding is also so we all have an excuse to go to a tropical location and party amongst friends) followed by a short honeymoon. Of course, it will come to an abrupt end when Jacob will be attacked and eaten by a shark while surfing, and I will be left to wander dark rooms in black corsets and drink red wine.

If I end of becoming a spinster, I think I'm actually going to revive the art of spinning. It will be Rumplestiltsken-esque in nature. And then, with the thread and fabric that I've created, I'll open up a profitable side business of sewing lingerie for widows to drink wine in.

It all seems very organic and environmentally friendly in nature.