Sometimes, I get so appalled by my own stupidity.

I should say up front that I am never an artist. I’m just a pseudo-typographist with bibliophilic dreams.

Still an hour away from an episode of Gossip Girl, I decided to (finally) place a marker in my planner since I am always scrambling to find which week it is. It was all going so well in our dinner table (since the light is brightest there and the table is the biggest in the house) until the superglue eventually backfired.

For some effed up reason, the superglue went through the ribbon and I had to air dry it. While dabbing in some more superglue to the planner and the ribbon, large amounts of it started oozing out of its blue Made-in-China-esque container. I started panicking and spreading the unnecessary superglue into the receipt lying on the table.

After a sigh of relief and a you’re-so-pathetic look from my brother, I waited, once again, for it to air dry. I started to fix the table when I realized I superglued the receipt to our dinner table (glass, antique, and special in all other ways in which my parents will eventually give me hell in the event of its ruination.)

This awful discovery is more mortifying than the tremors I feel every now and then due to the aftershocks.

With some art first aid, I rushed to the kitchen (a few steps, but whatever) and spilled vinegar all over the table. I started scratching out all the dried-out-sticking-into-glass-this-is-the-end paper of whatever is left of the receipt.

I eventually cleaned out the table but now, my hands smell like vinegar.

There is no actual intellectual advantage to the story (except for the fact that vinegar “heals” superglue fiascos) nor is this relevant to the more important universal decrees which we must all know.

What I learned is that, sometimes, we make our own problems.

The moral of the story, however, is that we should never do art projects in the middle of the night while waiting for Gossip Girl to finish downloading.

The art project, on the grander scheme of all things, is an enormous success. As I said before, I am never an artist. I just like to pretend that I am. After all, we are who we pretend to be,