Thursday, April 26, 2007

Broken Glass

It happened yesterday, when I was taking glasses and dishes out of the dishwasher and putting them back in the cupboard, and all of a sudden CRACK! Bits and shards broke off from the top of a glass. I'd hit the glass against the edge of a shelf in the cupboard. Not that hard, but sometimes all you have to do is hit it just the wrong way. That was it for the glass. I'm still finding glittering bits on the kitchen counter this morning.

A tall, clear glass, with painted stripes and squiggles running around it, red and blue and yellow and light green. The kind of glass you use for milk or orange juice at breakfast in the morning. I can't remember the last time I broke a glass. It annoys me.

Yet at the same time it also saddens me. That glass was one of four. I remember when I bought those glasses, in a huge cavernous liquidator's outlet down in Durham, North Carolina, back around 1990. I was a student at Duke, living under the poverty of student life, and I needed some glasses. I've used those glasses for years, down South, a couple of different places I lived in Illinois, and now these past going on eight years here in Iowa.

Broken glass. Sounds silly to say I miss a glass. But I do.

2 Comments:

Blogger The Tetrast said...

So typical of you triadi-- Ahem -- after careful consideration, I have decided to keep my four-ist jokes to myself.

I have broken a thing or two of mine which I regret. I swore that the the next time I broke somebody else's nice thing, I would say, "You'll thank me for this some day." Now, nobody should have a delicately framed painting hanging on the wall along a stairway where I am asked to sit and then stand up. Swish, crack! Well, I refrained from my planned quip on that occasion too.

Thursday, April 26, 2007 6:01:00 PM  
Anonymous Lucy said...

I feel your pain! I hate it when a set is broken. It seems to signal the beginning of the end, somehow. Although I know realistically that the loss of the pink beach towel was NOT the beginning of Armageddon. Still.

My husband knows this aggravates me full well. Right after we got married, his best friend broke one of every kitchen set I owned. NOT on purpose-consciously, and NOT at one time. But pretty consistently. My husband thought I was nuts when I started buying an extra glass. Until I showed him a cabinet full of three-glass-sets. It made him think twice about his friend's sanity. Turns out, the guy did have a brain tumor. Not saying that it led to some weirdo obsession about breaking one of every different set. But I did end up with a cabinet of three-glass-sets. Hmmm.

Thursday, April 26, 2007 8:14:00 PM  

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