Accidents Will Happen
As I was getting up from Deborah’s table to go home last night, I somehow managed to hit one of her lovely wineglasses and watch it smash onto the kitchen floor. I wished that I could have caught it in midair and saved it from becoming so many shards of colored glass on the floor.
The afternoon of music-making was suddenly eclipsed by this unfortunate accident. We had played the beautiful Telemann Sonata and the Bottesini piece so well in preparation for a coaching session with Bill this afternoon. Then we listened to Bill’s concert on the Internet (February 3) while we finished making dinner together. Following dinner we played lots of hands of bridge. Then at 9:00 I started turning into a tired pumpkin and decided it was time for us to go home. That’s when the glass tumbled to the floor.
I didn’t dare ask the story on the glass. Was it a family heirloom? Was it acquired on some trip to a foreign country? I would love to think that it was recently purchased at a place that still has some like it, but probably not. I can tell myself that accidents happen, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. When I got home, I sent her an e-mail to inquire about where I might find a replacement.
The only good news was that while walking to the car David said to me, “Deborah plays bridge even worse than you do.” Was that a compliment?
The afternoon of music-making was suddenly eclipsed by this unfortunate accident. We had played the beautiful Telemann Sonata and the Bottesini piece so well in preparation for a coaching session with Bill this afternoon. Then we listened to Bill’s concert on the Internet (February 3) while we finished making dinner together. Following dinner we played lots of hands of bridge. Then at 9:00 I started turning into a tired pumpkin and decided it was time for us to go home. That’s when the glass tumbled to the floor.
I didn’t dare ask the story on the glass. Was it a family heirloom? Was it acquired on some trip to a foreign country? I would love to think that it was recently purchased at a place that still has some like it, but probably not. I can tell myself that accidents happen, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. When I got home, I sent her an e-mail to inquire about where I might find a replacement.
The only good news was that while walking to the car David said to me, “Deborah plays bridge even worse than you do.” Was that a compliment?
posted by Barbara at 5:31 AM
5 Comments:
My god......bowling & bridge......this is too weird for words.
You see, people? This is why I shop at IKEA.
I agree with always write. Ikea. I tend to break a lot of glass, my guests even more. Nobody needs to feel bad about any of it. Though, I'd say the same about something with history. I struggle not to worry about "things."
Case in point. I just broke a red wine balloon. Serves me right for forgetting to add that friendship is more important that anything and you did good, offering to find a replacement.
I actually talked to Deborah about the glass today and was relieved to find out that it was NOT a family heirloom, but rather something she bought at Eastern Market. She has a great attitude, saying that all wine glasses are made to be used and they just break from time to time. I always tend to beat myself up unnecessarily about things like this.
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