When I was very young, I liked to mix various things around the house into “potions” and store them in jars we kept in the basement. Since at any given moment I was involved in a substantial number of scientific and thaumaturgical investigations, a lot of shelf space was going to this. This led to the following confrontation with my mother.
Mom: Shawn, honey, do you think we could throw away some of these potions?
Shawn: No, Mom, I need them.
Mom: Sweetie, you’ve got about thirty jars here. Aren’t there any that can go in the trash?
Shawn: No. I’m using all of them.
Mom: All of them? You’re using every single one?
Shawn: Yes. For my experiments.
Mom: Honey, what exactly are you doing with these?
Shawn: I feed them to Kelly.*
Mom: You feed them to the neighbor’s dog.
Shawn: Yes. Through the fence. She likes them.
Shawn: She likes them! I dip leaves in the potions, then I feed them to her. It makes her healthy!
Mom: Shawn—what exactly is in these potions?
Shawn: Baby powder. And glitter.
Mom: Oh no.
The fact that she made me throw them out was some bullshit, because the dog was fine. I will concede that I may have been mistaken about the medicinal benefits of my concoctions. Still, the bottom line was, I was perfectly happy feeding Kelly glitter-leaves, and she was perfectly happy having her insides bedazzled. It was a win/win arrangement.
* This was the dog’s actual name. Kelly, I know you can’t read this because you’re dead and illiterate, but dude, seriously, I am so sorry.