While I slept fitfully last night in the windless ten-thousand degree heat, Sam was exacting his revenge. You would think his identity as a minister would mean he might have gone easy in matters of vengeance, but no, he did not.
All of my shoes? Full of glitter. But only the right one of each.
My purse? Full of glitter.
My favorite tea mug? Yup.
My shampoo contained a large amount of glitter.
My favorite lipstick was dipped in glitter.
The pockets of my hoodie were full of it.
Every chair in the house was coated in a fine layer. It was on the dog. It was on Dalton. It was in PJ's beard.
I finally had to get away from it. So I went down to the beach with Duncan.
And guess what I saw?
Yes. More glitter.
I almost cried. The vacuum cleaner I have isn't so great. Marginally better than the shop vac but not by much so I figured I would disentangle myself from the hoodie, borrow a pair of shoes from Ruth and drive to the store to buy a new vacuum cleaner. We came back up (I'm laugh-crying now) and I got organized and got into Caleb's car, figuring I was safe and didn't get any glitter in his precious R8.
Then I turned it on and twisted the air conditioner up high.
And glitter blew out the vents.
