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 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. ;)

Unknown said...

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

Unknown 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 Volk said...

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


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