"Tessa, why are you sparkly?" You probably don't want to know.

I am so amazed at my stupidity that I am actually updating my journal.

Sparkles. You probably know them. That plague which, once spilled, is nearly impossible to entirely be rid of. Whether loose, or in a glue form, the damage is the same. I couldn't find any tape. You can probably see where this is going.

Around ten or so years ago, my parents had gotten us kids some sparkly glue in a big tube (about the size of a shampoo bottle) in various colors.

Around three or so years ago, my brother tried to throw them out. Being both an artist and a packrat, I went "Nooooo! We might use them someday!" and promptly stole them away from him.

Around winter last year, whilst decorating presents for our yearly competition, I decided that sparkle glue would be useful. Now the thing you need to remember about ten-year-old glue in a very thin plastic container is that the plastic is probably no longer as flexible as it once was. I did not realize this. When I squeezed the bottle to get the sparkly glue out, it snapped. Like glass, but less bloody and more dangerous. Sparkles were everywhere. I rushed around like a crazy lady trying to clean it before it dried. It sort of worked. My mistake. Oops.

Around four or so hours ago, I decided that I absolutely must stick something to something else. There was no readily available tape. But there was this bottle of sparkly glue right there...so instead of looking more thoroughly, like a sensible person, I of course...

I cannot hug my cat. I cannot hug my plushies. I am even wary of typing this for fear of getting sparkles on the keyboard. Even once washed off, the sparkles remain. They wait quietly, showing up months, even years after the original spill, waiting, waiting, for another opportunity to strike. Beware the sparkles. They outnumber us.