Thousands of multi-colored glitter stars cover the bricks of my front steps at the moment.
Love the UPS man though I do (doesn’t everybody love the man who brings the presents?), I haven’t rolled out the glitter carpet for him.
In the past week I’ve found glitter in a batch of fresh-made cookie dough (while scooping out balls of dough to make cookies), on the toilet seat, at the bottom of a basket of clean laundry, in the crevice of my computer mouse, and on the dog. Wait, make that both dogs.
I feel like I’m living in Studio 54, only without all the drugs and with Radio Disney instead of a DJ providing the soundtrack to my pounding headache.
And yet, nothing has successfully cleansed this home of the shiny remnants of an epic sleepover.
At one point it was Play-Doh that we’d find everywhere and between the couch cushions. Then, when it had all dried up and we outright refused to buy more of the smelly childhood classic, she moved on to stickers. Look close enough at some of the doors in my house, and you’ll see where more than some sticky paper was removed. Probably some of the walls too.
After that, the timeline gets blurry. Our house has survived Silly Bandz; although they might have been what killed the vacuum cleaner. Markers have come and gone and left their mark in the stairwell. And there isn’t a bit of tender foot flesh that has not connected with a LEGO.
But glitter. Glitter!
Nothing can hold a candle to this shiny symbol of girlhood exaltation and it’s unfailing ability to make you wake up, shuffle to the bathroom and find yourself staring into a mirror at a woman who appears to have just partied it up New Year’s Eve style while she was sleeping in her own bed on what she thought were freshly laundered sheets.
Looking for the gift that keeps on giving? I’ve found it … inside the batch of fresh-made cookie dough, on the toilet seat, and on a few of the pets running around these parts.
What happens to glitter in YOUR house?
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Image via mjtmail (tiggy)/Flickr