In high school I did an art project that involved a tremendous amount of glitter. I spent many, many hours working with it ... eating it ... inhaling it. Glitter is of the devil, I'm pretty sure. So I was apprehensive about working with it again for my Tinker Bell costume last summer. But I figured I couldn't have a proper fairy costume without some glitter, so I bought a bunch.
I sat down to open it, very very very carefully. I was prepped. I was primed. I didn't have to get up. I didn't have to move the glitter bottle far to pour it into what I wanted. I didn't exhale. Everything was in position for the cleanest, least-inhaling-bits-of-plastic experience possible.
When I opened the jar, it exploded. All over my pants.
There will be glitter in the apartment for years after we leave.
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