Thursday, September 27, 2007

Clayfeet

Saturday, I went to a dear friend's house to retrieve some dishes he was kind enough to let me store when I left for Afghanistan. My god. I searched for over half an hour, straight, in one tiny room, until I found them. I know some folks who are widely respected, and read, in the blogosphere and online community. I love these people.

But I have stood in dirty kitchens, been knee-deep in hair balls, gun articles, and sturdy swords, and stared, amazed, at piles of empty Diet Mountain Dew bottles and discarded potato chip bags. I may be hanging out with someone who has mastered the new rhetoric, conquered the old-style battle reminiscence, or awed the world with artistic talent, but from where I'm standing, they have feet of clay.

Sigh. But I love them. Regardless of what you hear, reality is better than fantasy, and a real, live, steadfast friend is better than any imaginary icon. Even if they can't cook, or keep the world's most untidy home. Warts and all.

So, let's raise a glass to friendship...somewhere else, where I can see the floor!

6 comments:

phlegmfatale said...

Here's to friends, indeed!

Don Gwinn said...

I'm glad we're friends, but this tells me that you can never be allowed to see my home. We will meet in a neutral location.

Tam said...

I think they're actually made of Ming dynasty porcelain. ;)

Byron said...

What can I say? Cleaning the house is low on the priority scale? I would have thought that was obvious.

Byron said...

But, hey, I did finally get around to cleaning out all the stuff you left in the 4Runner...after more than a year.

Oleg said...

Get a cat! I blame any mess on the cat.


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