It wasn't my fault. I was at work by 5:30 a.m., waiting for our shipment (149 boxes of clothes) to be delivered early as promised, in preparation of kicking off our first big spring store set. Instead, our driver decided to be precisely 2 hours and 56 minutes late.
Needless to say, by the time I got around to the tedious task of dealing with tiny things such as bangles and the like, I was feeling somewhat brain dead. I was entitled to a crazy moment.
I thought the jar would be able to handle the overflow, that the last little bangle would sit there on top of the mountain of bangles like a little extra water does on top of a glass cup. But unlike a too-full glass of water, which is bound by some law of science that I never understood to not overflow, the canister couldn't take it, and overflow it did.
The bangle in question slid from the mountain, ricocheting off the edge of the table before tumbling to the hardwood floor. Another bangle followed. And then another, and another, and another. Before I knew it, I was Daniel Radcliffe in Harry Potter, The Deathly Hallows: Part 1, in the scene where he sets off a brigade of exploding robotic critters to distract a group of Ministry of Magic slaves outside the door of Dolores Umbridge's office. Bangles were reproducing, bouncing around on the hardwood floor, a bunch of unstoppable accessories come to life.
And distract I did, as all of my store set helpers scrambled around, chasing after bangles as I watched in horror as the mess I needlessly created seemed to multiply before my eyes. I myself was seemingly glued to the spot, unable to pitch in and help.
Instead I laughed. Sometimes, when you've been working your butt off (if only this weren't just a figure of speech!) for hours on end and something so ridiculous happens that makes a thought like "bangles come to life" pop to mind, all you can do is stop and laugh.