I'm somewhat stoked that a few of you longtime Drunkards still remember when I re-did my formal living/dining room floor with epoxy and glitter.
The whole story is recounted here, thank you very much.
The thing is, when I recently downsized my life, I had to get rid most of the vestiges of my previous, longstanding life as a homeowner, possessor of shit-tons of stuff, etc.
Yet I could not, despite throwing away years' worth of keepsakes, heirlooms, and assorted memorabilia, bring myself to discard the excess jars of glitter.
See, here they are.
After lots of inner deliberations and debates, I decided to include four semi-depleted jars of glitter among the precious few things I moved from my spacious suburban home to my small single-mom apartment.
Don't ask how, or why. To delve that far into the workings of my mind is to invite madness, probably.
So instead, let's skip to this existential dilemma.
I have four jars of glitter in my possession.
And I have a fourth-floor balcony.
More than once over the past few weeks, it's occurred to me to step out onto that balcony and express myself in one of two ways.
I can open several jars of glitter and toss them blithely into the air and, subsequently, down into the courtyard below me, creating a wonderland of sparkly snowfall to glint in the sun and occupy building maintenance for days.
Or I can simply stand on my fourth-floor balcony and at the top of my lungs scream "FUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKK." Likely it would echo nicely and carry quite far on the crisp Texas autumn air.
Or maybe I could combine the two in a profane, glittery maelstrom of awesomeness from my very own balcony.
Any of the above would be a welcome release of pent-up frustrations. And possibly worth recording for YouTube posterity.
I don't know. What do you guys think?