So I took this pottery class. And I made these pieces that I was intending to give to my family for Christmas. And last night when I opened the plastic bag that I had put them in in my suitcase, most of them were broken. Actually, they're still broken and sitting on my night stand with all their respective shards placed neatly in what remains of their bowl shape.
At the time, it kind of felt like someone had killed my children. Tears were shed. Sleep was lost. It's kind of pathetic, but this is the saddest thing that has happened to me in a long time.
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