Wallflowers are harmless. They are pretty things that stand in corners with a pleasant look on their face. It’s the wall-weeds I can’t stand. They moan about the mantles, mope upon the sofas, and pout about the punch bowls, waiting to be asked, “Are you all right? You look so sad.” Wall-weeds will linger for hours if you let them. And the only thing that seems to drive them away is other people’s happiness.
